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#twisted wonderland jamil viper

leavingsunsets · 6 months

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"ᴵ ᶠᵉˡˡ ⁱⁿ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ."

a short Jamil Viper oneshot.

The sunset painted the shore a beautiful orange hue.

The misty breeze was like a comfort, a gentleness that soothed you away from your worries.

The warmth of your lover's palm against yours, fingers intertwined.

A small beach walk. That's what this is. A momentary silence, a way to forget your worries, even for just a minute. You both rarely get any, after all.

A content sigh escapes your lips. You enjoy this. This peacefulness. This feeling of home. The way time seems to stay, to slow down, to breathe. This... view.

Jamil keeps his gaze towards the horizon, quiet. You know he's just basking in the moment, just as you are.

His hair is undone, locks swaying in the breeze. Eyes softened to a familiar look, with the soft sunlight hitting his skin in an ethereal glow.

For a moment, your heart warms. The soft feeling spreads to your cheeks, tinting your face pink. This sudden warmth gets your hands all clammy, and you can't help but feel a little embarrassed when Jamil notices.

He turns, looking at you so tenderly that you thought your heart might've skipped a beat.

"Something wrong?" Jamil speaks softly, voice in a hushed tone.

You shake your head, giving him a small smile. "No, it's nothing."

A chuckle, before he gives you a cheeky grin. "Oh really? Is that why you've been staring at me for the past five minutes?"

Jamil bursts into a small laugh at seeing your pink expression. He expects you to swat at him, maybe even grumble and deny his words with flushed cheeks.

However, he doesn't expect you to actually answer.

"Just.. you were so breathtaking I just thought my heart was falling for you a second time."

The boy blinks, eyes widening just a fraction in suprise. "You..." he trails off, before closing his mouth. Jamil tries to fight the sudden heat against his cheeks, and quickly turns his head away.

"Geez. You're so cheesy." he grumbles, letting go of your hand. He hopes you don't notice the way his pulse quickened, or the way your lovesick gaze had him weak in the knees.

You pout at this, obviously. "But it's true! You were looking at the sunset all cool and stuff, and then just looking at you my heart was beating really fast and—" rambling on, you interlace your hands together again, which does not help Jamil's heart in any case.

"Stop, stop, I already got your point." He hides his burning face with his hand, avoiding your eyes. "Let's just- let's just go already. It's getting dark."

Looking around, it is indeed getting dark. The orange horizon's given way to a pretty blue, reminding you of your curfew. "Oh, right. Mann... I should've at least taken a picture. The sunset looked pretty."

Jamil just nods, tugging you along. "Maybe next time then."

You gasp excitedly. "We're going on another beach date??"

"...yes."

"Is it because I said you look cool staring at the sunset? You look cool anywhere, you know."

"Quiet, please."

Sevens. It's hard to quell his racing heart, not with how he can't help but feel like he's falling in love with you all over again.

#jamil viper #twst jamil #jamil x reader #twisted wonderland jamil #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland jamil viper #disney twisted wonderland #twst jamil viper #twst jamil x reader #jamil viper x reader #sunset prints

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shiemori-writes · 1 year

Note

If your still doing requests, How would Cater, Kalim, Malleus and Jamil be like when their s/o gifts them a portrait of themselves that s/o painted?

✰—" because every artist need's a muse!"

the prefect decides to gift their lovely s/o a portrait!! how will the boys react?

characs: cater, kalim, malleus and jamil <3

includes: sfw, fluff, pining, pre-established relationship, and ofc, gender neutral reader as per usual!

notes: this was pretty fun to write! thanks for the request nonnie~! (also yes thats malleus' username) (he was using speech to text and it was too late to change it khehehe)

♡︎CATER DIAMOND♡︎

Growing up, he never really wouldve thought he'd have someone..Let alone a partner, care for him like you do, and now after he's seen how you see him? Heh, he might as well have fallen for you all over again.

Sheeesh you got him feeling all mushy inside mc! youre gonna be the death of him, you're too cute you know that?

He's uncharacteristically careful, quiet even for a few moments, wide eyed as he observes the little strokes and splashes of color you added, whether it be the emerald green you carefully painted for his eyes, the lovely ginger locks you gingerly (heh) painted across the canvas, or even just his smile, not the smile that he put up with everyone but the smile that he puts with you.

Once he's done observing though, he'd smile, he'd smile real big at you, the type of smile that never failed to make your heart flutter

Thanks you by tackling you into a hug, peppering kisses all over your face despite your giggly protests

He definitely posts it on magicam bring all ooey-gooey

(yk those couple posts? Yeah)

heh, after all! he has such a lovely s/o and he absolutely wants to brag about it

If you hear ace gagging in the background ignore him smh (maidenless behaviour)

He has the painting in his room now, a silent reminder that you'll always be here for him, and he greatly appreciates it <3

"—Hey, (name)-san, thanks, alright? no really,- I-..I really appreciate this, kay? You made cay-cays heart melt y'know!! You're the most cutest sweetest s/o ever!!! Hehe!! I'll post this later but..For now, I'll reward you with my affection!!!"

☀︎︎KALIM AL-ASIM☀︎︎

You decided to give it to your sunshine of a boyfriend once you were both done with classes, casually showing him the portrait inside your locker wh- OH GOD IS HE CRYING??? KALIMM-

Bros literally SWOONING (rook who?)

HIS BEAUTIFUL, PRETTY, ELEGANT GORGEOUS, LOVE OF HIS LIFE, HIS OTHER HA- ok you get the point

HIS?!?! HIS S/O PAINTED HIM?!🥺🥺🥺🥺 BWKDJAJD (NAMEEEEE) HE LOVES YOU SO SO MUCH!!!

Literally squeels and scream like a little kid on christmas when you gave him the portrait, guy fell in love with you all over again please his hearts doing jumps and he feels all mushy and just <33 his,,, his pwetty s/o 👉👈 painted him🥺

Thanks you by giving you lots of kisses!!! literally smothers u in his affection and hugs the life out of you (FLOYD WH-)

He immediately hangs it on his bedroom wall, gushing about you to jamil (help him)

it definitely cheers him up in his bad days!!

Like he could be doing the most mundane things and randomly think about your portrait, and hes smiling all lovesick all over again

Seriously, at this point jamil's heavily considering into moving into a different dorm because all Kalim will talk about for the rest of the week or so is prefect this, prefect that, blegh dear sevens jamil is TIRED

But anyways, kalim loves it, and love you even mooreee!!! He also hosts a party in your honor (jamil stopped him from doing anything more grand)

(I love him so much omg)

"—AWW THANK YOU SO MUCH (NAMEE)!!! I LOVE IT!!! *SNIFF* YOU PAINTED ME SO WELL TOOOO!!!! I love love love you!!!! I'll make sure to hang this in my room hehe!! oh and by the way!! im hosting a party later for you!! eh? what do you mean its not necessary? Only the best for my dearest jewel!!!"

ꨄ︎MALLEUS DRACONIAꨄ︎

this man, oh my sevens where do I even start? He already praises the ground you walk on, so boy-oh-boy does this work wonders for him! (sebek crying in the background is normal)

You guys were at your normal hang outs, gazing at the stars as Malleus held you close, talking about whatever is on both of your minds when you realized the portrait you did for him!!

Literally mid way of you talking you stopped bc of that and just went like :O !!!

(Malleus found it ridiculously adorable, he wants to kiss u stupid rn)

Curious to what revelation you had just witnessed, he watched as you grab something from your bag carefully

"My my,? What's this child of man? Fufufu~ I was not aware you would be bold enough t—!!!"

His teasing remark was caught in his throat once he saw your bashful grin at the painting of what seems to be,,...him..?

You handed him the painting as he carefully examined it, the details of his features that you took great notice of, his eyes, his horns..

You cleared your throat and explained yourself when you saw noticed how quiet he was, cheeks flushed

Breaking him out of his reverie, he finally processed your explanation and flashed you the most sweetest, sincere smile that made your heart go crazy bc he was so cute rn oml

He quietly pulled you closer, engulfing you in the most gentle hug ever, treating you like fragile porcelain as he inhaled your scent, chuckling a response to your gracious gift

"—my my, child of- no, (name), for once you have me speechless...You truly are full of surprises arent you,? Well..Anyways, I sincerely thank you, dearest. Your affections have reached me and I hope you know I plan on returning them ten fold. I love you, (name)."

᯾JAMIL VIPER᯾

Its no secret that you and Jamil are busy people, after all he was the vice housewarden and you were a prefect

Regardless of your busy schedule, you would always reassure him that no matter how busy you two would get, you'd always be there for him, whether it be through sticky notes, or little cute texts to get him going, he would cherish them all, but..

all of that pailed in comparison to what you had just given him now

He stared at the painting you had given him in awe, wide eyed and cheek flushed as he stroked every detail of the piece, from his golden ornaments to his eyes..or the way his smile was painted, you never missed a single detail about him and..and..and god you were just so, so amazing

He's definitely quiet for a long time, but once he's out of his thoughts he immediately smiled, a small curve on his lips as his cheeks was painted with a lovely red, gazing at you with the most fondest look he's ever given.

Pulls you close to him as he mutters a quiet 'thank you', trailing kisses around your neck as he buries his flustered face in the crook of your neck, he loved you very much

He hung up the painting a little while after, admiring the little detail's you had painted on him.

"—ya hayati..Thank you..I really appreciate it," he mutters out, voice gentle as he trails a kiss on your forehead, chuckling at how flustered you were, too. "Love you.." He said, voice laced with fondness as he held you closer, feeling your warmth.

"-Say, (name), there's a feast later in Scarabia..Mind joining? I'll cook your favorite, alright?"

end notes: hi hi!! sorry this took so long nonnie </3 hope you like it!!! My favorite parts to write was definitely jamil lol! i think it showed but anyways, thanks for requesting!

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merotwst · 1 year

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REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!!!

DEADLINE EXTENDED TO JUNE 10!!!

IMPORTANT NOTE: hello everyone! happy may! i recently did a poll asking whether you guys would prefer a raffle over a contest. and contest won! i'll be hosting a writing AND drawing contest and my friends @cvlutos and @cleumuu will be helping me judge the entries! please keep in mind, this is my frist time hosting any sort of event like this so if you see any mistakes or anything out of place, i apologize! let me know and i'll get it resolved. im constantly looking for ways to improve so please be gentle and kind. this is only my small contribution to the jamil kissers and enjoyers and i want to bring a little bit of fun to the creative twisted wonderland community! reblogs are greatly appreciated for this post! now, onto the details! click on read more to expand the post.

FANART SUBMISSIONS OPEN!!!

written entries masterlist

a masterlist will be created for all the works (separate art and writing) and will be featured in my blog! thank you for ur patience with me and we look forward to your entries! have fun!!!

original pinned here

#jamilssummercontest #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #twst jamil #twisted wonderland jamil viper #jamil twisted wonderland

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artsybelle1015 · 1 year

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Soft Kissing

Jamil x Reader

You joked suddenly about making out with Jamil, but he seemed a bit intrigued by that.

genre: fluff, drabble

reader is genderneutral (no pronouns in this)

warnings: none? light french kissing though!

“We should make out… kidding!”

Jamil glanced at you, the two of you were in the library simply studying when you randomly popped that joke out after talking about a couple.

Now there you were, awkwardly sitting there and regretting all your life choices as he stared at you. Welp, there you went messing everything up again, letting your weakness spill to your crush.

“Sure,” he said, still eyeing you.

Now you were bewildered. He seemed so calm about the situation too? When you finally looked at him, he only looked away, pretending like nothing happened.

“Really?” you questioned. “You’re not like questioning me or anything? Not even an insult?”

Closing his book, Jamil sighed. “I’d rather not do this in a public space, let’s head out somewhere else.”

Then, he grabbed your hand and led you away. Soon enough your fingers intertwined as he brought you into an empty classroom. You still couldn’t believe this was happening, and all so fast.

He propped you to sit on the table as he stood over you, holding your waist, and a faint blush spread across his cheeks as he nervously looked to the ground. “Well don’t stare like an idiot, do something, you started this.”

“W-well I said kidding!” you retorted, a blush wildly spreading across your face.

“So do you not want to do this then?”

“That’s not what I said.”

A small smile spread across Jamil’s face, his blush growing even more. “Then, is it okay if I go for it?”

You nodded and stared into his red eyes while he finally looked back. Very slowly, he pushed his lips against yours, cupping one side of your face with his hand, stroking your cheek ever so slightly with his thumb. Jamil never had experience in relationships… much less kissing, but he was doing a wonderful job, it was slow and steady, calculated one might say.

A tongue poked against your lips, which made you open your mouth as he licked your tongue ever so lightly. Opening your eyes a bit, you could see him staring at you and watching your reactions.

Pulling back he kept eyes locked on you. Some things were still on his mind so he asked, “Are we considered friends at this point?”

“I… don’t think so…” you said, getting flustered and nervous now that he may reject.

“Okay,” he stated, pecking your lips softly. “Then, let’s date.”

Nodding, you slowly kiss him back and wrapped your arms around him.

___

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olivyh · 1 year

Note

That Jamil fic with the ladybug was hilarious!

Now I wanna see Jamil with a reader who's great at making, well, anything. Leave her in the kitchen? She's already made a whole feast. Give her some fabric and a sewing machine? Boom! She's made a snake plushie. Leave her in a workshop? She's made a music box.

Jamil's heart is probably overflowing with love

A/N: EVERYONE HERE LOVES JAMIL SO MUCH AND IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY!! He's such a complex character with so much lore!!! Jamil needs to be cared for <<33

Jamil thought he would have gotten used to this by now- waking up to warm breakfasts sitting on his bedside table, combing back to the dorm after practice to a warm quilt made out of scrap fabric found in Ramshackle, a homemade phone case when Floyd broke his during practice?

They'd even gone through the trouble of handcrafting him a small music box that plays a small lullaby similar to a song he'd mentioned in passing; a lullaby from his homeland that his mother would sing to him at night. The small box had sprung tears to his eyes when he'd unwrapped it and allowed the sweet melody to drift into the night air. He still listens to it often, winding it up and listening to the notes when he's had a long day or feels homesick. It also serves as a constant reminder of the love that he received from his partner day in and day out- love that exceeded the puppy love that he was told he would feel. Jamil felt as though the word love alone couldn't describe what swelled his heart every time he looked at one of the gifts- it was adoration, yes; Respect for them and their skills, absolutely; awe at their crafty nature... he couldn't seem to settle on just one word.

He couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable at the affection at first- he was so used to being given gifts with the intention of delivering them to Kalim, so used to having to hand off items that he desperately wanted to keep to himself. He couldn't help but smile at the familiar swell in his heart when he discovered a snake plush that had somehow found its way into his backpack when he set it down during lunch, looking around the room for his Love only to catch their passing glance as they shot him a wink and a smile.

He sat down in his seat, his hoodie suddenly feeling too tight and way too warm against his skin as he slipped it back into his bag, feeling suddenly possessive over the item. A part of him wanted to set it up on the table to show to everyone what he got, that he had someone who loved him so deeply that they took time out of their life to make him something solely because they wanted to.

At the same time, he wanted to keep it all to himself, like a little secret shared between lovers and hidden from the world's prying eyes. He also didn't want to risk Kalim's incessant questioning once he surely saw the plushie. He continued to eat lunch, as usual, only looking up occasionally to see if his partner had left. Once he's seen them raise from their seat and bid their friends farewell, he stood suddenly, making the white-haired boy across from him jolt as his head shot up.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Jamil mumbled, grabbing his things and turning to the heir. "The prefect texted me and asked if I could help them with something."

Kalim smiles and the sight of it nearly makes Jamil freeze- the boy had been nothing but supportive of his relationship, even going so far as to pay for them when Jamil brought up the idea of taking them back to see his home. Yet, his knowing grin arose some sort of conflicting emotions within him- once more, greed and possessiveness rising above all. Deep within, however, seeping through the cracks, thrived the feeling of acceptance, of giddiness at the idea of Kalim knowing that the prefect was his and his alone, as well as the possibilities that opened knowing that Kalim was accepting of their relationship.

He rid his head of the thoughts and quickly hurried off, approaching the prefect once they split from the group and pulling them into a quiet stairway, the two of them hidden behind a beam.

"You're tricky," He looks at them, a small smile forming on his face.

"Did you like it?" Jamil could hear more and more people start flooding into the hall, and he lamented the limited time they were able to spend together. He pressed a chaste kiss to their lips, glad to be hidden by the shadow.

"I do like it," Another kiss, this time on their forehead. "Thank you."

"What are you gonna name it?"

"Hm? I didn't think about that," He admits quietly, wrapping his arms around their waist and trying to prolong the moment, knowing that this will be the only few moments they would be able to spend together until they're both pulled in separate directions. If they were lucky they would have time at the end of the day to unwind at either dorm (which ended up being Scarabia). All too often would Jamil have to ignore that familiar tug of 'not yet' as it pulls at his heartstrings.

"You should name it! Something like..." They hum for a moment. "Snake themed?" He chuckles.

"Any ideas?" He pulls away from them once the hallway becomes too crowded for their liking, already longing for their warmth.

They nod and open their mouth to say something else, their hand snaking into Jamil's and intertwining their fingers together as they try to find some semblance of the affection that was between them just moments before.

"Pre~fect!" Ace's voice rings through the hallway, making Jamil sigh and frown as he looks over his shoulder to see if he could spot the boy. "Grim got stuck in the vents again!"

"What?!" He winces at the sudden loudness of the voice as they sigh, eyebrows knitted on their forehead in exasperation. "How?"

"His ass is stuck!" Ace's voice breaks into rowdy laughter towards the end. His lover sighs and rests their head against his chest once more.

"Duty calls, Love," He snickers as he presses a kiss to the crown of their head. "Better get him out before classes start." That earns him a glare from them as they tug playfully at his hoodie strings before leaving. He watches them warmly as they leave, still hidden in the shadow of the pillar. He can feel the plushie pressing through the fabric of his backpack against the space between his shoulder blades.

As he walks back to the dorm, he can't help but feel overwhelmingly loved, a pressure that presses hard down on his chest until it steals his breath from his lungs the more he thinks about it. He silently promised to return the favor one day- hoping to express his gratitude with a warm meal and cuddles well into the night, followed by a flurry of kisses across their face until they looked as giddy as he felt in this very moment.

Until then, he had to return to his treasures and add the newest member of the family to the pile.

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland fanfiction #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #scarabia x reader #twst jamil #twst jamil viper #twisted wonderland jamil #twisted wonderland jamil viper #twst fanfic #twst fanfiction #twst fluff

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captainjacklyn · 1 year

Note

Can i request a headcanon where the s/o gifts ruggie, malleus, neige, jamil, ace and azul crochet flowers that smells like the orginal flower ,atleast every month?

Istg crochet flowers are so pretty and i meant this, this, this , this, this, this, this, this, this , this and this and looooots of more.

How sweet ! You seem to like crochet flowers quite a lot, I'll do it ! (You are right, they're very pretty. This actually made me buy some-)

Pairing(s) : ruggie bucchi x reader, malleus draconia x reader, neige leblanche, Jamil viper x reader, Azul Ashengrotto x reader

Warning(s) : None ! The reader is gender neutral but I'll mostly be referring to you by..well- You.

Ruggie Bucchi

I would just like to say that Ruggie loves your bouquet. He appreciates the effort and he appreciates the gift, like, a lot.

Ruggie is the type to show love through acts of service but gifts have a different story to them.

Now the reason why I chose sunflowers was because they represent unwavering faith and unconditional love.

It's the perfect gift to those you love in order to express how much you adore them. It symbolizes faith and adoration for all that is, the true faith and loyalty to something that is much bigger and brighter than themselves.

Ruggie is flattered to know the meaning behind the flowers you give him. To think that someone admires him for his work despite being aware of his status as a not-so rich student.

He'll give the favor back, after all, in one way or another your actions will always come back to you.

But wether it is sunflowers, yellow tulips or daffodils. This hyena boy loves your work.

He's amazed that you can do this with your own hands- and it smells like the original flower too !

He keeps each of them in his room, all aligned on a shelf with a small space for more to come.

Ruggie cherishes you and your gifts. And he'll make sure to return the favor one day.

Malleus Draconia

The dragon fae was a little confused about the bouquet at first, he didn't instantly realize they weren't true flowers since the smell of it was there.

But once you handed them to him he notices the fine work of crochet that you've manufactured with your two hands alone.

And he's impressed ! Although it may not seem surprising, he would love to know more about the techniques and maybe even try it himself.

I'm sure you would be a wonderful teacher !

In the language of flowers, Salvia nemorosa holds the symbolic meaning of longevity, wisdom, esteem, and good health. Spiritual leaders have used salvia flowers in their religious rites and divination for centuries as a symbol of knowledge and connection to the divine source.

This instantly matched the tall man as I believe he would be the next king of faes.

And he's wise, Malleus will also remain youthful as his extended life span will allow him to.

His eyes sparkle upon seeing your eyes full of joy while presenting the wonderfully crafted masterpiece to him.

He loves it. He loves your work. He loves you. All of it.

Start doing it every week you'll end up becoming the next king/queen/ruler of briar valley alongside him.

Azul Ashengrotto

First of all- he's giving you something back after every single service, every single gifts because he feels in debt.

Just assure him that there is no need to offer anything back to you and that you enjoy doing it for him.

You don't expect anything to be returned to you, you actually like doing what you're doing.

Delphiniums symbolize cheerfulness and goodwill, as well as a protective plant. Delphiniums are used to communicate encouragement and joy, as well as remembering loved ones who have passed.

Now before you say anything- NO ONE is dead. Stop getting crazy conspiracy theories in your head I can see you- !

And to add to Azul's incredible ways of describing the food's taste here is a real quote of him after smelling you artificial yet beautiful flowers :

"Most are heat and drought tolerant, and their foliage and flowers are fragrant, with scents ranging from licorice to bubblegum. It's fantastic !"

Oh boy.

That was a strange feeling. I did not like writing that down...

MOVING ON.

But again he'll try to offer you something back, you're quick to notice and proceed to tell him that in exchange for your gifts he just has to keep them in his room and give them the biggest smile if he likes it.

What kind of payment is that [Name]-

Their deep red hues evoke feelings of passion, love, and lust — making them an especially popular choice for new, younger couples. They can also mean “believe me” or “my feelings are true.” Red tulips

You aren't in control, he isn't controlling you.

Your feelings are genuine and you love this snake bastard, just the way he is and not because of his status.

Lavender flowers represent purity, silence, devotion, serenity, grace, and calmness. Purple is the color of royalty and speaks of elegance, refinement, and luxury, too.

As much as he isn't a king or a prince, he's royalty in your eyes.

Daisies symbolize innocence and purity.

As much as he isn't all that innocent, the gift or in other words the bouquet your offering him is innocent and truthful.

It smells great too-

Similarly to ruggie, Jamil is the type to show is affection towards others by acts of service.

You can tell that he's trying to pay you back when he's paying ten times more attention to you.

HE EVEN FORGOT TO LOOK AFTER KALIM FOR GOODNESS SAKE-

anyways.

Many groups associate sunflowers with prolonged constancy and loyalty, reflecting the flower bud's tendency to follow the sun across the sky.

He'll never be more than a servant to the eyes of other, but you make him dream that no matter what. He remains your king.

Neige leblanche

Neige is ecstatic ! He loves it ! And they smell amazing too !

He was always offered gifts from his fans but yours mean so much more, especially when he can keep them forever !

Normal flowers go away in a few days but this one will remain with him, whenever he misses you, Neige will just glance at your magnificent crochet work.

You're the best you know that ?

Yellow tulips now represent happiness, cheerfulness, and hope. Victorians even believed yellow tulips literally meant “there's sunshine in your smile.” It's for this reason that yellow tulips have become popular “just because” gifts, as they are sure to bring a smile to anyone's face.

Blue tulips are variants of the white ones. They represent peace and tranquility. You may gift blue tulips to display your trust in a person.

The sweet simplicity and genuine beauty of the daisy have made the flower an international emblem of innocence and purity. Its fresh, crisp appearance has come to symbolize new beginnings, and its bright, spirit-lifting colors are known to spread happiness like wildfire.

The biblical meaning of lavender symbolizes purity, devotion, and love. The color is also associated with the crown chakra, which is the energy center associated with higher purpose and spiritual connectivity.

The pink tulip is a symbol for caring and good wishes. It's perfect for a gift for friends or family.

I chose a bouquet filled with nothing but good wishes, happiness and care for Neige. I know many are suspicious of him, but in my eyes he is the sweetest to exist.

Well I'm done now. I hope you liked it.

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my-1heart · 1 year

Text

Shooting hearts rather than hoops

Jamil Viper × GN Reader

Notes: basketball Jamil brain rot fr, Jamil and reader flushes at one point (kinda cute or whatever), Floyd teases Ace and Ace tries to fight back but know, basketball terms?? I tried

Authors note after posting: the way part of this is missing and tumblr won’t keep my edits… please check comments for the small section that’s missing 💔

"Will I see you later?" He asked, slightly looking over his shoulders as he approached the door.

“Of course you will!” You exclaimed, waving him goodbye.

Jamil smiled, before leaving.

As the door closed, you leaned back. Although Jamil wasn’t the rowdiest of people, it was never quiet quiet with him around.

The sounds of a pencil scratching the paper or even books being flipped through would be heard. But with him leaving, it was now eerily quiet again.

Your eyes wandered about the room before settling on a bottle. Had that always been there? Honestly if it had been, it was hard to tell due to how out of place most things in the dorm had been.

Standing up, you walked over to grab it. If it weren’t there before, it was now and well you might as well clean it.

However upon closer inspection, you recognized it. It was in fact left there by none other than the very person who just left.

“He’s gonna need it.” You muttered.

Initially, you weren’t one to disrupt Jamil while he was obviously busy. But it was just clubs and you were just stopping by to drop it off, so this doesn’t really count right? Of course not! Plus, he really was going to need it considering he was in a sports club.

That was enough reason as you walked out of the dorm, bottle in tow.

-•-•-

The gymnasium had been loud as the sounds of basketballs hitting the backboard or even the rim echoed.

“Come on crabby, ya can’t keep missin like that!” Floyd yelled out, laughing a bit.

“I’m trying Floyd! Someone’s got to have cursed the basket…” Ace muttered, throwing another ball in hopes it went in.

“Cut him some slack, Floyd. It’s not the easiest thing to make it in every time.” Jamil reasoned, fixing his hair.

“Sea snake, you’re takin forever over there!!” Floyd grumbled.

“Relax, I just have to secure my braids. We’ll play one on one like I promised.” Jamil replied.

Another shot was taken, this time the ball hit the inner rim and seemingly bounced out.

“What the hell?!” Ace spluttered, only ensuing to Floyd’s laughter.

“It’s not funny! I swear this hoop is cursed!!” Ace rattled, picking up the ball and seemingly trying to crush it.

“Mhm, keep tellin yourself that crabby!!” Floyd laughed, taking the ball from Ace.

In one swift movement, Floyd’s throw had landed the ball into the hoop further causing the first year to grow red in embarrassment.

The two began to bicker as Ace swears he can make a basket, while Floyd continued to tease him. Jamil could only look over and sigh.

The bickering died down as they noticed someone by the bleachers.

“It’s Shrimpy!” Floyd cheered, running over.

“Hey Floyd!” You greeted.

“Shrimpy’s here to play right?? Crabby’s been having trouble with making a hoop. Ya think you could make it in??” He exclaimed, circling around them.

“I’m not having trouble!!” Ace yelled, fuming just a bit.

“I’m not here to play, sorry Floyd.” You replied, stifling a laugh.

“Aww, that sucks!” Floyd grumbled, crossing his arms.

“I’ll stay and watch though! Cheer you on I guess.” You reassured, to which he seemed to brighten up again.

“Hah! You mean cheer Jamil on. They aren’t here for us, Floyd.” Ace snorted, giving you a slight side eye.

“I ain’t stupid, Crabby.” Floyd stated, glaring at the first year.

Jamil had finished securing his bun, when he finally noticed how far the voices of the other two had sounded. Looking around to find them, he quickly noticed you and made his way over.

“What are you doing here so early? I thought we were gonna meet after practice?” He asked.

“Hi! You uh… you forgot your water bottle with me so I thought I’d drop it off.” You explained, to which Jamil gave a sly smile.

“And what if I left it with you on purpose?” He quipped, giving you a bit of a teasing smile.

“You expect me to believe the Jamil Viper, vice housewarden of Scarabia, would purposely forget something this important?” You sneered

“Perhaps. Gave you the perfect excuse to come see me, no?” He replied.

“I guess you’re right.” You smiled.

“Are you two done? Sea snake promised me a match one on one.” Floyd asked, boredom dripped in his tone.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.” Jamil replied, waving to Floyd.

“Ooh, does the Jamil Viper want a kiss good luck?” You asked teasingly.

Jamil adverted his view from yours, causing you to let out a small laugh.

“And if I asked for one?” He asked back, looking at you now.

Now you couldn’t keep the contact, taken aback by his words.

Jamil leaned in, leaving a kiss on your forehead before swiftly making his way to the court.

“It was supposed to be the other way around!” You yelled.

Jamil only looked back with a smile, before returning his focus on Floyd.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Obviously. It took ya long enough Sea snake.” Floyd grinned, dribbling the ball.

#jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst jamil #twst jamil viper #twisted wonderland jamil #twisted wonderland jamil viper #jamil #scarabia #twst scarabia #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #jamil x reader #scarabia x reader #zuzu’s twisted wonderland #zuzu’s creations

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unpredictable-probabilities · 8 months

Text

Present

Summary:

Jamil has a peaceful and quiet birthday for once, and he learns that Azul is responsible for it.

However, the merman himself did not attend. Bothered by his absence, Jamil decides to seek him out.

Word Count: 5,777

Author's Note:

This time last year, Jamil got kidnapped by S.T.Y.X., and now he's been put to sleep by Malleus. I wrote this because Jamil deserves to have a peaceful birthday~

Thank you to @patchyegg87 for helping me with this! <3

Happy birthday, Jamil! ^_^

——

"Alright, let's go!" Ace said when he got out of Sam's shop with a bag full of snacks.

"Lead the way, birthday boy," Ruggie told Jamil, carrying a cooler in one hand and a picnic basket in the other.

"And you're sure there isn't an elaborate surprise party waiting for us at Scarabia?" Jamil asked skeptically as they made their way to the Hall of Mirrors.

Kalim threw parties spontaneously even on regular days, Jamil found it hard to believe that he wouldn't see today as an excuse to throw another one.

"You asked that three times already," Ace complained. "Like we said, we'll just be having a chill picnic at the oasis and maybe swim around if the water isn't too cold."

"Yeah, man," Ruggie said. "Just you, me, Ace, and—"

"Sea Snake!" Floyd ran up to Jamil and hugged him tightly from the side. "Happy birthday~!"

"Of course," Jamil muttered, stuck in Floyd's grip.

"It's party time!" Floyd said after letting him go.

"Why're you carrying that big backpack?" Ruggie asked.

"It's full o' clothes and shifting potions," Floyd pat the bag. "I'm gonna go swimming in my merform!"

"Eh, why not?" Ace shrugged as they continued their walk.

Meanwhile, Jamil's eyes had been scanning the surroundings, seeing if anyone else would be joining their little group.

Whenever Floyd appeared at the parties that Kalim threw, it usually meant that two other Octavinelles were close by.

"Floyd," Jamil began.

"Yeah?" Floyd turned to him.

Where's Azul? "Don't you have a shift at Mostro Lounge today?" Jamil asked instead. "Saturdays are pretty busy there, right?"

"Yeah, but today's my day off!" Floyd grinned. "Cool, right?"

But your boss didn't give himself the day off? "Yeah," Jamil said, his eyes still looking around.

As his friends continued their chitchat, Jamil subtly shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

So what if Azul showed up to almost every single one of Kalim's parties but couldn't be bothered to show up today for his birthday? No sense in thinking about people who weren't present.

They reached the Hall of Mirrors, and Jamil refocused his attention and led them into Scarabia.

—

"So there's really no one else coming to this thing?" Jamil asked when they reached the deserted oasis.

"Nope," Ruggie said. "I get why you're suspicious, but it's really just us."

"You're too paranoid, man," Ace said as they began setting up the picnic blanket under the shade of a big palm tree. "You gotta relax!"

"Were you hopin' there'd be someone else, Sea Snake?" Floyd smirked at him.

"No," Jamil frowned. "I was just making sure."

Floyd snickered and walked over to look at the water, not helping them set up at all.

Jamil sighed internally. Kalim had thrown a surprise party for him every year since they were children, always with about a hundred guests that Jamil barely knew.

Today he had been expecting surprise guests as well, perhaps a certain merman with glasses that drew attention to his blue eyes, and a smile that was too perfect to be sincere. Jamil almost believed that he'd be waiting at the oasis for them with that smile, smug about having tricked Jamil into thinking that there were really no other guests.

That's fine. It's not like Jamil wanted him to be here, anyway. He just got so used to Azul showing up uninvited that it's a little weird not having him around.

"Jamil?" Ruggie called his attention.

"Huh?" Jamil said distractedly.

"I said pass me the cooler, over there," he pointed to Jamil's right.

"Oh, sorry," Jamil muttered, a little embarrassed, and handed the cooler to Ruggie.

"Where's your head at?" Ace raised an eyebrow.

"I'm just worried about Kalim," Jamil instinctively said, picking the most believable lie he thought of. "Are you guys sure he's okay with not being here even though he's the one who planned it?"

"Yup, he said he didn't want you to think of having to be a servant and stuff like that," Ace said, getting a bottle of fruit juice from the cooler that Ruggie had set in the sand outside the blanket.

"And we all know how capable Silver is," Ruggie added. "So there's nothing to worry about now that Kalim is hanging out with him."

Jamil nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

There was a big splash in the water, followed by a loud cheer from Floyd.

"The water's great!" he called out to them, neck-deep in the pool. "Come on in, Sea Snake!"

"Maybe later," Jamil said, bracing himself to be relentlessly pestered.

But Floyd simply said, "Okay!" and went back to his swimming.

Jamil exchanged surprised glances with Ace and Ruggie.

"I guess he's in a good mood…?" Ace said.

"Looks like it," Ruggie answered, unwrapping a sandwich and taking a big bite out of it. "I thought he'd start dragging us to the water."

Eventually Floyd came out of the pool and complained that he was hungry. Then he plopped himself right on the blanket despite his swimming shorts still dripping wet.

They chatted and bickered while they ate. Ruggie cooked all the food which meant everything was delicious, and they snacked on the chips and cookies that Ace bought at Sam's while they played cards and board games.

When the sun got too hot, all of them jumped in the water—Floyd turning into his merform mid-air and tearing his clothes in the process.

Afterwards they all just lay down on the sand, letting the late afternoon sun dry them.

—

It was when his friends had fallen asleep and everything was quiet that thoughts of Azul returned in Jamil's mind.

The sun was hanging low in the sky, and Mostro Lounge was probably packed. Knowing Azul, he'd be in the kitchen helping cook the orders, and maybe waiting tables too if it's a particularly busy day. Just yesterday he actually fell asleep in the library while he and Jamil were doing research for Alchemy. Jamil had planned to let him sleep for however long it took, but he woke up after 10 minutes and profusely apologized, explaining that he had been working late for days already.

People say that Jamil works too hard, that's why his friends had insisted that they have a low-key celebration today where they can all just hang out and have fun. But he could argue that Azul works just as hard, and the Octavinelle Prefect could have really benefited from a day of relaxation if he had just showed up today.

Jamil closed his eyes. It seemed that no matter what he tried to do, Azul would just keep surfacing in his mind.

Now he felt irritated. If Azul had joined them today, he wouldn't be having this problem. Azul would make a remark about how he and Jamil should be on the same team in the games because they work so well together, and Jamil would roll his eyes but not disagree. That was how they always were.

But not today, apparently.

Jamil cursed. Was he actually missing Azul? Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. Water must have gotten in his ears and reached his brain while he was swimming earlier.

He got up and brushed sand off himself. He might as well start cleaning up.

—

Jamil was walking his friends to the mirror portal as the sun began to set.

"Who's cooking dinner at Savanaclaw if you're here?" Ace asked Ruggie.

"Jack volunteered, along with some other sophomores," Ruggie answered, then turned to Jamil. "You're not on dinner duty tonight either, right?"

"Yeah, Kalim told some upperclassmen that they're in charge of dinner tonight, which they didn't seem to mind," Jamil said.

"Ooh, then does that mean we can all stay here longer and keep the party going?" Floyd asked. "We can play basketball! You have a ball here, Sea Snake, right?"

"Hell no," Ace said. "I can't be late for dinner. Especially since Trey is baking a new cake recipe tonight. Prefect might blow a fuse if I show up late."

"And I still got other chores to do at Savanaclaw," Ruggie added.

"Aww, alrighty, next time," Floyd shrugged.

Ace gaped in disbelief. "Really? That's it? You've been reasonable the entire day, it's kinda scary."

"Don't question it, he might change his mind," Ruggie snickered.

"I made a deal with Azul," Floyd said indifferently as they reached the mirror portal. "He said I could take the entire weekend off if I'm on my 'best behavior' today," he made air quotes with his fingers.

"What?" Jamil frowned in confusion. "Why would he do that?"

Floyd raised an eyebrow at him, and Ace and Ruggie exchanged glances, but none of them answered his question.

"Wow, I thought you were smart, Sea Snake. Byeeee!" Floyd waved at them cheerily then stepped through the mirror.

"What does that mean?" Jamil turned to the other two.

Ace just snickered.

Ruggie sighed and stepped forward to the portal, patting Jamil on the shoulder as he walked past. "Today was fun. Happy birthday again, Jamil. Y'all got a pretty cool oasis." He disappeared through the mirror.

"Gotta go, can't miss dinner, bye Jamil!" Ace jogged to the portal and stepped through.

Jamil's frown deepened. Looks like he'd have to pay Azul a visit tomorrow.

—

Soft jazz music poured out of the glass doors as Jamil pushed them open. He waited until after peak lunch hours before going to Mostro Lounge, he didn't want to get in the way of their work.

"Jamil," Jade greets him pleasantly. "Are you here to dine?"

"Um, no. Is Azul here?" Jamil asked.

Something seemed to twinkle in Jade's eye at that. "He's in his office. You can go right in."

Jamil nodded. "Thanks."

He made his way to Azul's office and knocked three times.

"Come in," Azul's voice says.

Jamil took a breath and opened the door. He just wanted answers, that's all.

"Hey," he said as he closed the door behind him.

"Jamil?" Azul said in surprise from behind his desk. "What brings you here?"

"Um…" Jamil shifted on his feet, suddenly unsure.

"Ah, apologies, I've forgotten my manners. Have a seat, please," Azul stood up and gestured to the couches facing each other in front of his desk. He walked over to one of them and took a seat. Jamil sat on the couch across from him.

"Floyd said you made a deal with him so he won't be annoying at my birthday party," Jamil said before he could hesitate again.

Azul looked caught off-guard, but he recovered and smiled his usual smile. "Yes, I did. I heard that Kalim invited him, and I thought I might as well suggest that he behave himself."

"You heard?" Jamil raised an eyebrow. "Kalim told me this morning that he went to you for help in planning the party, and the whole thing was your idea. You even told Kalim to hang out with Silver instead."

It was all too easy to get answers out of Kalim. Jamil just casually brought up the party and said he was impressed that Kalim planned it like that. Kalim immediately gave credit to Azul, saying that he seemed to understand Jamil the most, so Kalim asked him for help about what Jamil would like for his party.

Azul chuckled and adjusted his glasses, averting his eyes for a moment. "Yes. Kalim came to me for help, and I merely pointed out that you might prefer a quiet celebration rather than a grand one. And he always did like spending time with Silver, didn't he? "

"What favor is Kalim giving you in exchange for that help?" Jamil knew that Azul wouldn't just do that for free.

"Mostro Lounge would be catering the next two parties that he would be hosting," Azul said in his businesslike tone.

"And me? Do I owe you now for all of that?" Jamil crosses his arms.

"Nonsense. Consider it a birthday gift." Azul smiled, and it was Jamil's turn to be caught off-guard when he saw that it actually looked sincere.

Jamil fiddled with the strings of his hoodie. "Couldn't bother to show up to the party that you planned, then?" he heard himself say.

Azul's eyes became guarded even as he maintained his smile. "Well, the idea was for your party to be stress-free. So naturally that meant my absence."

The bluntness of the words made Jamil fall silent. Azul had spoken playfully, but Jamil knew him well enough to recognize the hint of sadness in his tone. He really believed that he was a source of stress for Jamil.

Jamil wanted to say something, but what could he say? He understood why Azul would think that. How many times had he told the merman to leave him alone and insist to everyone that they weren't friends?

"... Is that all?" Azul prompted curiously when Jamil still wasn't saying anything.

Jamil was asking himself the same question. He got his answers, should he leave now?

But if Azul was already starting to distance himself from Jamil, then what's next? Would he also stop asking Jamil to partner up in Alchemy? Avoid him in Flight Class?

Jamil didn't like that thought one bit.

"Are you free today?" he blurted out.

Azul blinked at him, looking unsure if he heard the question correctly. "What?"

"I-I thought we should continue working on that Alchemy project," Jamil invented wildly, willing his hands to stop fidgeting. "Maybe we could use some bioluminescent plants, and aim to make some sort of illumination potion. You guys have those plants in Octavinelle, right?"

"Ah, yes," Azul nodded. "Do you have any specific plants in mind?"

Jamil racked his brain for names of aquatic plants. "Sea Stars. Or anything similar to that," he added, so Azul wouldn't just outright decline in case Octavinelle didn't have Sea Stars.

Azul furrowed his eyebrows. "We do have those, but as you know they can only be harvested by the light of the moon. I can gather them by myself tonight and hand them to you tomorrow, so you wouldn't have to be away from Scarabia in the evening."

"No, it's okay, I wouldn't feel comfortable not doing any of the work on harvesting. And someone else is cooking dinner at Scarabia tonight. We can continue the research in the library, and then go check the plants when it's night," Jamil said.

"Oh," Azul looked mildly surprised. "You want to go to the library now?" he looked at his watch.

"Yeah," Jamil kept his face neutral. Because you didn't show up to my stupid celebration so now you owe me a day's hangout.

"Hmm, alright," Azul stood up and arranged the papers on his desk in a neat stack. "I'm almost done with these, anyway." He turned to Jamil. "Shall we?"

Jamil nodded and stood up as well.

—

Despite it being an unplanned endeavor, they actually got a lot of work done in the library. Jamil had relaxed and it felt like just another normal day of doing homework together.

It seemed like only a few minutes had passed, but they looked at the windows and saw that it was evening already.

Azul led the way to Octavinelle, and they went down a corridor that had a sign by the entrance that said guests were only allowed in that area when accompanied by an Octavinelle resident for safety purposes.

The walls here were made of glass that continued onto the curved ceiling, showing the sea and aquatic life outside. Bioluminescent plants illuminated schools of fish passing by and corals of various colors, and the glow on the currents themselves made the place look almost ethereal.

Jamil slowly walked towards the breathtaking sight, tentatively reaching out and placing his hand on the cool glass.

"It's beautiful," he muttered. Maybe he'll add some underwater places to his itinerary once he graduates.

"It is," Azul replied.

Jamil turned to him and saw that he was looking at the water with a soft smile on his face.

"The ocean is as dangerous as it is beautiful," Azul continued. "Back in my hometown, we can't look at such sceneries without also worrying about predators that lurk just outside of the light. When I first got here, I was happy to know about this place. I used to go here frequently back then."

He looked at Jamil, still with a smile on his face. "Floyd can accompany you here if you ever wish to see this again. It's a rule that humans should always be accompanied by a merman in case there's a leak somehow and it begins to flood. Jade is a bit busier than Floyd but I believe he could also make time to take you here if you asked."

Jamil furrowed his eyebrows. "Why Jade or Floyd?" Why not you?

"Oh, I merely thought that you're most familiar with the two of them. Do you have any other friends from Octavinelle?" Azul asked curiously.

"Yeah, you," Jamil said bluntly, meeting Azul's gaze.

Azul looked genuinely surprised, and he let out a nervous chuckle. "There is no need for empty flattery. I'll help you gather the Sea Stars either way, you know. Come along."

He started to walk down the hall again, but Jamil caught him by the arm and stopped him.

"Why don't you believe we're friends?" Jamil scowled. He knew that his tone wasn't friendly at all, but something about Azul basically saying that they're only classmates had irritated him.

Azul looked taken aback at his outburst. Then he frowned and yanked his arm from Jamil's grip. "You're asking me that? Aren't you the one always telling me to leave you alone and to shut up whenever I ask you to work with me at Mostro Lounge? You're never happy to see me and yet you want me to believe that you think of me as a friend?"

Azul's voice had risen, and now he averted his eyes as he straightened and took a deep breath to recover himself, wearing once more his facade of a composed Prefect.

"It doesn't matter," he said in a level voice, keeping his eyes on the exit at the other end of the corridor. "Let's just get the plants."

He strode off before Jamil could say anything.

Jamil followed, dreading the words that he knew he would have to say if he didn't want Azul to keep getting farther away from him.

He climbed the stairs that led to the surface and stepped out on a beach softly lit by several glowing plants serving as torches along the exterior walls of the dorm.

Azul was standing near the water, hands in his pockets and head tilted towards the sky.

"It's cloudy," he said when he heard Jamil approach. "We'll have to wait for the moon to appear before we can harvest the Sea Stars."

"I never mean it, you know," Jamil mumbled.

"What?" Azul looked at him, frowning in confusion.

Jamil willed himself to meet Azul's gaze. "I never mean it when I tell you to leave me alone."

Azul's eyes softened in surprise.

"And I didn't wanna work with you at the Lounge because who knew what ulterior motives you had? I didn't know if I could trust you. You don't exactly have a wholesome reputation," Jamil pointed out.

Azul raised an eyebrow at him. "So you're saying we're friends because you can't trust me? Rather counterintuitive, don't you think?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Jamil huffed in exasperation. "I…" he sighed. "We've worked together on a lot of projects. You trust me to help you in Flight Class, and you've been to Scarabia so many times at this point. If you really wanted to harm me or Kalim, you would have done it already. I'm saying I trust you, and we're friends, okay?" he glared to mask the embarrassment he was feeling at saying such things out loud.

Azul had tensed up and his eyes looked cautious. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I wanted you to come to my party!" Jamil snapped, then promptly averted his eyes as he felt his face warm. "I was hoping you'd be there but you weren't," he mumbled.

He turned his back and pulled up his hoodie, wondering whether he should just get back to Scarabia before he said anything stupid.

"I didn't know…" Azul said quietly.

"Yeah, well…" Jamil pouted under the cover of his hoodie.

Azul cleared his throat. "It looks like it could be a while before the moon comes out. We can sit here for now."

Jamil slowly turned to Azul, gauging his expression.

The merman was sitting cross-legged on the sand, gazing out at the soft currents of the water glowing subtly from the plants below.

Jamil found himself staring at Azul's soft features. He wondered how many people got to see this side of him; Azul rarely just sat down and waited. Either way, the atmosphere between them was relaxed again.

"Do you ever swim out there?" Jamil asked curiously, putting down his hood and sitting beside Azul.

"Every ten days, when I have to return to my merform before taking another dose of the shifting potion," Azul replied. "That's mostly what the Octavinelle residents use this place for. Though I swim farther out before I shift."

"Do you need to be in deeper waters?" Jamil knew nothing about Azul's merform apart from Floyd's occasional remarks that his tentacles were chewy.

"Not exactly," Azul looked down momentarily, tapping his fingers on his knee. "... Apart from Jade and Floyd, no one here at NRC has ever seen my merform. And I intend to keep it that way."

Jamil furrowed his eyebrows. "Why? Don't you like your merform?" It didn't fit with Azul's usual air of confidence.

"Nobody likes my merform," Azul smiled mirthlessly. "Mermen's tails are colorful, and eels' tails let them swim incredibly fast. My long black tentacles are neither. I'd rather not have my residents be put off by their Prefect's true form."

Jamil fell into thoughtful silence. Clearly Azul had some unpleasant experiences back at his hometown, but Jamil didn't want to pry.

"Screw them," he said instead. "You're one of the most talented mages here, and you're a responsible Prefect. If they'll lose respect for you just because of your merform, they're idiots and you should be put off by them."

Azul looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Do you compliment all your friends like this?"

"Shut up," Jamil bumped his shoulder against him.

The laugh that bubbled out of Azul made Jamil smile, a warm feeling blooming in his chest.

Their eyes met, and Azul's gaze softened. "... I'm sorry I didn't go to your party. I really had no idea you wanted me to."

The warmth in Jamil's chest rose to his cheeks. "Hm. Why do you think I asked you to hang out today?"

Azul looked caught off-guard. "What?"

"I figured you owed me for skipping out on my celebration," Jamil said playfully, finding it much easier to tell the truth when looking into Azul's eyes.

"Was this all a ruse, then?" Azul asked in amusement. "Are we even really going to use the Sea Stars for our project?"

Jamil shrugged. "Yeah, why not? We figured out some pretty good plans earlier at the library."

Azul chuckled and shook his head, looking at the water again. "Looks like you finally agree that we make a good team."

"I've always known that," Jamil said, watching the water's surface ripple from a particularly strong breeze.

Apparently Octavinelle could get really cold, even more than the cold nights at Scarabia. Jamil rubbed his arms, wishing he had worn something else other than this sleeveless hoodie.

Then he felt something drape over him. He turned in surprise to see that Azul had given him his coat.

"Can't have you catching hypothermia now," Azul said, placing it around Jamil's shoulders.

The scent of Azul's cologne made his stomach flutter, and his breath caught in his throat.

Azul's close proximity was making Jamil's imagination run wild. A feeling that he never dared name was resurfacing in his chest, the same feeling that he always squashed down every time their fingers brushed during Alchemy, or whenever Azul smiled at him in the way that he never smiled at anyone else.

Then Azul let go of the coat and faced the water again, looking up at the sky. "The clouds are dissipating. We should be able to get the Sea Stars soon."

Jamil took a breath to steel himself. If they left this place without him giving it a shot, who knew when else he'd have the courage to?

He glanced at Azul's hand resting on the sand. Slowly, he inched his own hand closer, fighting his own nervousness with logic by mentally listing down reasons why it would be the right move.

1. Two days ago at Alchemy, they both reached for a flask at the same time, and Jamil's hand ended up on top of Azul's. Jamil had flushed and he retracted his hand immediately and mumbled an apology to Azul, only to see that the merman's face had turned pink and was averting his eyes.

Jamil continued to move his hand closer.

2. Azul Ashengrotto never did anything for free. He certainly wouldn't go through the trouble of convincing Kalim to not throw a big party and then allow Floyd to be absent from the Lounge on their busiest days as a gift.

Their hands were only a few inches apart now.

Jamil looked at the water, too nervous to keep his eyes on what he was trying to do.

3. Everyone knew that the Octavinelle Prefect was near-inseparable from his coat. Even when he took it off during warmer days, it never left his person. He never let anyone else handle it, let alone borrow it.

Jamil's pinky touched Azul's, and he froze, waiting for Azul to move away.

He had misread the signals. Azul was gonna ask him what the hell did he think he was doing. He was going to get kicked out of Octavinelle. He'd work alone on—

Azul's pinky curled over Jamil's.

Jamil could only hear the soft waves of the sea and his own heartbeat thundering in his chest.

He swallowed. Then he lifted his hand and placed it on top of Azul's, curving his palm and holding Azul properly.

He could see in his periphery that Azul had turned to face him in surprise.

Jamil met Azul's gaze, seeing that he looked just as flushed as Jamil felt.

"Azul, I…" the words left him as he stared in Azul's sky blue eyes.

The glow of the plants around them softly bathed Azul's fair skin, and moonlight made his hair a shining silver.

Something nagged in the back of Jamil's mind about the moonlight being important, they had been waiting for it, right? But now he couldn't remember why, and he couldn't care less.

Jamil slowly reached up and brushed a lock of hair from Azul's forehead, and his cheeks turned a brighter red.

"I want you to be there for my every birthday…" Jamil whispered, afraid to speak louder and break whatever spell held them now.

Azul opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

"I want…" Jamil struggled to form words himself. Words didn't seem enough to express what he had been feeling for a long time now, the bright warm sun inside him that demanded to rise no matter how much he insisted to remain in the night.

"I want you," he gasped out, looking into Azul's eyes and hoping so badly that he would understand.

For a moment Azul just gazed back at him, the air thick with unspoken words and withheld touches.

Then Azul surged forward and captured Jamil's lips in his.

Jamil's arms moved on their own and wrapped themselves around Azul's neck, pulling him closer.

Their legs and knees were in the way, and in his frustration Jamil leaned forward as far as he could.

Azul fell on his back with a soft grunt, landing on the sand with Jamil on top of him.

The kiss broke only for a moment, then their lips sought each other again, Azul running his hands along Jamil's back.

Azul's coat had fallen off Jamil from all of their moving, but Jamil wasn't cold anymore. The sun was blazing inside him, and Azul was a refreshing drink of water on a hot desert day.

Jamil reached out with his tongue, and Azul met him eagerly. A groan escaped Jamil's throat as their tongues stroked and caressed each other, intertwining in a most delicate dance that Jamil couldn't get enough of.

Azul's hands roamed up to the nape of Jamil's neck, but he brought them down to clench in his shirt instead.

Through the pleasant static in Jamil's mind, he sensed that Azul was holding back somehow.

As Azul kept his hands noticeably still, the gears clicked into place and Jamil realized that of course Azul knew all about his culture.

"Azul…" Jamil pulled away slightly, catching his breath first. "You can touch my hair."

Azul looked up at him in disbelief. "Are you sure?"

Jamil nodded, caressing Azul's cheek. Touching someone else's hair was an act of intimacy in their culture, and certainly not to be done without express permission. The fact that Azul remembered such a thing even in the heat of the moment made Jamil all the more comfortable.

"I'm sure," he said softly, placing a gentle kiss on Azul's lips.

Azul sighed contentedly against him, slowly sliding a hand up to his hair, fingers threading into the soft strands.

Jamil shivered at the contact, glad that he chose to wear a loose braid today.

The heat around them was building again, and Azul rolled them over so that Jamil's back was pressed against the sand.

"Is this okay?" Azul whispered between kisses.

"Yes," Jamil breathed, his face warming at the sight of Azul looming over him, their lips and bodies pressing together.

Jamil had lost all sense of time. He explored Azul's mouth with a fervor, digging his nails into the small of Azul's back and swallowing the sound he made like a man starved.

Azul kissed him with a desire that so mirrored his own, and Jamil couldn't believe they had waited so long to do this.

After an endless amount of time of shaky breaths and soft sighs, they finally pulled apart, flushed and panting.

Azul gently rested his forehead against Jamil's as he caught his breath, and Jamil cupped his cheek, running his thumb across the smooth skin.

"Jamil…" Azul pulled away a little and looked at him questioningly. "What does this make us?"

"Definitely not just friends, I can tell you that," Jamil said, still feeling the high of it all.

Azul chuckled, and they both sat up again, their hands reaching for each other and their fingers entwining.

"Azul, do you…" Jamil looked down at their linked hands, feeling his face warm. He made himself meet Azul's gaze again. "Do you wanna be my boyfriend?"

Azul's lips turned up in a smile, and he squeezed Jamil's hand. "I thought you'd never ask. Of course I do. Good thing you actually told me this time, instead of just assuming I'd know like with the whole 'friend' situation," he said playfully.

Jamil grinned. "I wanted to be sure you won't be making out with anyone else on this beach."

"I won't be making out with anyone else at all," Azul assured him with fond amusement. A particularly strong breeze ruffled his hair, and he looked over at the clear sky. "Ah, shall I get those Sea Stars now?" He got up and brushed sand from his clothes.

"Yeah, let me help," he nodded and stood up with Azul.

"They grow farther out in the water, I can get them myself." Azul said. "And then you can be the one to dry and store them for our class tomorrow. Does that sound good?" He removed his cummerbund and placed it on the sand, then he started rolling up his sleeves.

"Uh…" Jamil felt caught off-guard by Azul suddenly removing an article of clothing and exposing more of his skin. He cleared his throat and turned to the water. "Sure."

Azul removed his shoes and socks, then dove smoothly into the water.

Jamil watched him swim several feet away and under, where a cluster of star-shaped glowing plants grew.

He got so used to Floyd changing into his merform whenever he went into water that he wondered why Azul didn't do the same. Then he remembered what Azul had said earlier about it.

When Azul got back with an armful of plants, Jamil handed him his glasses.

"Oh, thank you," Azul wore them and began to tie the bunch of plants with seaweed.

His shirt clung to his wet skin, and Jamil found his eyes lingering on the lean structure of Azul's torso and arms.

"You know, I think you'd look good even in your merform," Jamil said casually.

"What?" Azul looked at him in surprise as he finished tying the seaweed.

"Yeah, why wouldn't you?" Jamil stepped closer to him. "You look beautiful in this form."

Azul's face turned pink and he averted his eyes. "You don't know what you're saying, Jamil."

"Hey," Jamil said gently, placing a hand on Azul's shoulder and tugging him to meet his gaze. He wanted Azul to see how sincere he was. "You don't have to show me your merform, but you don't have to hide it from me either, okay?"

Azul looked at him with hesitation in his eyes.

"If you can still like me even after seeing my Overblot form, then I'm pretty sure I'll still like you in your merform," Jamil said to lighten the mood.

Azul chuckled, his shoulders relaxing. "That's a fair point, I suppose. Will you be heading back to Scarabia now?" he asked, handing over the plants.

Jamil took them and thought for a moment. "Do you wanna come with me? They're probably done with dinner now, but I can cook us something. You can't go tracking water in there, though," he said playfully, gesturing at Azul's soaked clothes. "You gotta change first."

"Right now? You want to see me undress so soon?" Azul teased.

"No, I'm cooking you dinner first," Jamil quipped back.

Azul laughed, a carefree sound that made Jamil feel pleasantly warm inside.

And right there, on Octavinelle’s beach softly lit by glowing plants and a full moon, Jamil knew he had received a gift that was much better than any grand celebration.

——

(Masterlist)

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pumpkincarriage3 · 1 year

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Kalim And Jamil Relationship Analysis

Right, so Kalim and Jamil's relationship. Definitely by far one of the most complex relationships in the game. So, first off, there's something I would like to point out, because at the barebones of their relationship, this is what it is: A master and servant relationship.

Some might disagree, especially since it was downplayed in the English version, but that's the truth of it. It's why Kalim and Jamil even interact with one another. It's why Kalim and Jamil interact with one another in the way that they do. If they weren't master and servant, their relationship would be completely different. Jamil would never have overblotted in the first place. This relationship defines them in a lot more ways then people either realize or acknowledge.

Because it's not like it's a case of Jamil being hired to take care of Kalim. That's not what it is. There is a reason that the Viper's are heavily implied to be under a slavery contract to the Asim's. And this level of servitude that is pushed is what defines all the negative aspects of Jamil's and Kalim's relationship.

Because it's not like Kalim is the only character in the game that has a retainer. Malleus also has retainer's. He has three of them. But while Malleus's retainers were raised to be such, or already under the sovereignty's power in Lilia's case, they are not under a slavery contract. If they truly wished to live and pursue another lifestyle, they could. They willingly choose to serve under Malleus. And that's what makes Malleus's retainer's so different from Jamil. Jamil never had a choice.

And that is what defines the relationship between Jamil and Kalim and its core. Because no matter how kind Kalim is to Jamil and no matter how much Jamil might like Kalim as a person, they are still just master and servant.

It's the way they were raised. Jamil always had to bend over backwards to suit Kalim's every need. Always had to restrain himself from going all out because a servant can't be better than their master. Always had to watch his every word and action because it never reflected on him, it reflected on the Asim's. Always had to watch his and Kalim's back because people are constantly looking to poison Kalim. He can't speak up against it, he just has to deal with it. Be constantly riddled with anxiety at every given turn. And Kalim is at the center of it all. Not because of anything Kalim did, but because of the family's they were born under.

Kalim constantly had everything given to him on a silver platter. While he always praised Jamil, Jamil was still always "worse" at things then Kalim. Kalim's never known any different. The same way Kalim couldn't even trust their family cooks because sometimes he would get a poisoned dish. Until Jamil started taking care of it. Nothing bad ever happened because Jamil was always there, and Kalim has never known any different. He can trust Jamil with his life because the Asim's trust the Viper's. Because even though Jamil has had plenty of opportunities to get rid of him, he doesn't. Jamil was always someone that was guaranteed to be safe for Kalim, in a place where safety was never truly guaranteed. Because Kalim would also have to live with the paranoia of living up to his family's name, to the threats of being poisoned by his own family.

To Jamil, Kalim was the representation of the anxiety he could never get away from. To Kalim, Jamil was the safety away from the anxiety of being poisoned.

So, Kalim would constantly seek Jamil out, which would intern drive Jamil even more crazy by the day. Jamil probably at least expected to be able to get away from Kalim while he was at school, but that didn't come to pass because Kalim ended up going to NRC.

Which puts even more stress on Jamil. Because at least at home, there is more than one retainer. More than one person that can be trusted with Kalim's safety. And now there is just one person. And it's all on Jamil.

It's why Jamil did what he did. He doesn't hate Kalim, but Kalim's mere presence is a reminder of everything that Jamil hates. In the same regard, it's why Kalim forgave Jamil and the reason Jamil overblotted was never brought up to their families.

Jamil was never actually trying to harm Kalim. Kalim knows this. Even when Jamil overblotted, at his height of hysteria, when he ordered the dorm students around, it was just to kick Kalim, Yuu, Grimm, Azul, and the twins out of Scarabia. When he overblotted and that didn't work, he just threw them out into the middle of the desert. He didn't start trying to harm them until they came back and he would have been at the height of the affects from the overblot poisoning.

All the other characters that overblotted immediately tried to kill the people around them. That wasn't Jamil's first reaction. His reaction was to send them away first. Because he didn't want to harm them, he wanted to be left alone. That's all he wanted.

After the overblot, even though Kalim has given Jamil permission to act more freely, it is practically ingrained in their relationship already. That master and servant relationship. Because Jamil still tries to refer to Kalim when Vil gives him credit. And Kalim is just realizing just how much of their relationship he misunderstood.

That's not to say that Jamil doesn't genuinely care for Kalim. Or intern that Kalim doesn't genuinely care for Jamil. They do. It's just hard to ignore that master and servant relationship. It's especially hard for Jamil too, since that's all everyone ever reminded him of.

And the two are close. They work well together, because they grew up together and do care for one another. And it's not as if the master and servant relationship dictates everything. We see Jamil ordering and snarking around with Kalim long before the overblot, he's just more open about it afterwards. Because on some level, they are friends. Their relationship is just strained because of the position both of their families put them in.

Honestly, unless the Viper's are willingly given the choice to either leave or willingly stay, the relationship between the two will always be a little strained. Because ultimately, the one's that benefit from the Viper's servitude is the Asim's. And even after Jamil overblotted, Kalim never talked about freeing the Viper's, just gave Jamil the permission to act more freely.

Maybe that's because he knows Jamil is safe and he can trust him with his life, even after what happened. Or maybe not. But it's definitely something to think about.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #Disney twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #Jamil Viper #twisted wonderland jamil viper #kalim al asim #twisted wonderland kalim #character analysis #relationship analysis

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yomogi-mogi-mochi · 1 year

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Merciful Crusade

Pairings: Jamil x Shikigami MC

Summary: The life of a shikigami, or a ceremonial servant spirit was a threadbare one. The small world you scarcely lived consisted of hard, earth‒packed walls framed tightly against a small cedar cell, illuminated only by the lonely starlight during your sleepless nights. Despite your human body, you’re almost certain you’ve never felt the blood move and warm your body in such a way that would indicate that there had ever been a human heart‒ having spent too much time gilded with a hardened iron face to even feel it if it had been there. Jamil‒ who untethers you from the spell that binds you to your onmiyoji master‒ becomes a peculiar mirror in your new life that reflects your choked breaths and measured footsteps. It never bothered you when your own body smothered what was left of your vitality‒ but when you watch Jamil from a distance, knowing the way he classifies each movement, the strangle of his muscles‒ something inside you aches. You don’t know why.

Tw: Mentions of Child abuse/abuse, references to slavery, references to dissociation, references to dissociative amnesia/amnesia, references to anxiety

GN terms for MC

AO3 Link Here.

Masterlist.

——————————————————

"Do not fail me."

You bow forward, on your knees, palms to the gravel, neck cooled from the moonlight. Practiced, perfectly paced breaths, mathematically measured strain of your muscles. It must all be still, perfect as your master always instructs with every narrowed twitch of his eyes, the tightening grip on his staff prepared to unleash his flurry of magic. You had felt it before, the fire of his skillful hand on your skin, bubbling the flesh, and every fiber of your muscles parting with his lashing hands. So you've burned these precise movements, each counted breath, to your body tightly wound to still any mistake, any fear that may escape it. Servant spirits do not speak, tremble, or bleed without the permission of their Onmiyoji masters, however‒ your body once human‒ would shake if you didn't hold the tightness in your shoulders at the center of your stomach, the lurching muscles of your spine.

"Leave." He dismisses with a whirl of his hand which cuts through the air.

You do as you are commanded, leaping onto your feet and back to the hall of mirrors to head to the Scarabia dorm. The halls are hollow and whistle somberly with the breeze that runs through, and you glide with that sound to reach the boy's room with muted footsteps. Somber indeed, if the word poured from the mouths of wives and neighbors and kings and queens of the lives you had taken were true to its meaning. Another night, another prince's blood is spilt. However practiced, every movement and decision must be performed with quick execution and precise resolution before you disappear like the stars washed from the bleeding morning light.

The knife in your hand molds against your grip as you creep into the room‒ the boy sleeping peacefully in his plush pillows and rich fabrics, sunken deeply into slumber. His soft breaths tickle your hand like a fluttering bird as you hold the cloth just above his lips, before you hands work quickly to press it firmly into his airways, filling his lungs with the chemical of your master's making. He takes a brief second of conscious struggle, widening his eyes with panic, but he soon succumbs as they always do‒ eyes rolling back with an idle slump before all the muscles of the body grew limp. You take the blade to his throat, promising a quick death with the angle of which is pressed into his bulging vein. A deep breath in to draw the sharpness quickly in one sweeping motion.

But you are stopped by a stony grip and a cold voice which coils around your spine, sending a cold shiver down which you swallow through your taut muscles the best you can.

“Stop right there.”

In an instant, you leap backwards, body lowered to the ground prepared to take down your obstacle.

“Look into my eyes.”

They're all the same‒ woven with greed, with false hope, fear‒ all of the rotten fruit which bears heavy on humanity before you bleed every lustrous thing out of them. You always look at their eyes with great indifference as you do with most things, knowing no matter how much they thrash their body and rip terror and mercy through their throat‒ a single motion of your hand would empty them out of such things, as swift as dark wings that claws rotten flesh clean from breaking bones.

But you are met with all the silvery glitter of ebbing stars.

It is of course not his magic he casts which stills your hand a moment in the air‒ your current status as spirit assured that‒ but the world within the delicacy which projects this spell. Like the thousand colors of heavenly bodies and roaring comets, you think. The allure which trickles between the thick cedar bars of your cell every night‒ the only beauty you know of. And now its greatness was closer than ever, you didn’t know how quite to react other than to stare back dumbly.

"Put the knife down and step away‒"

You fling yourself towards him in that instant, scraping the skin where the largest vein lies beneath with a lightfast motion, and knocking the wand in his hand. He is quick on his feet, shifting backwards with fluid movement, before he jumps back towards you like a striking serpent‒ pinning one arm down and using his other hand to bring your knife down towards your shoulder. You catch his wrist with the thrust of your elbow, the knife inches away from your palm.

"That should have worked on you…"

This would have to be dealt with quickly.

"Your abilities only work on humans, am I correct?"

He is startled by the rasp of your voice. "Yes. But…"

In the midst of his confusion, you rammed your hand through the tip of the blade, grabbing his hand with the same hand that tore to pieces with blood and sinew. You flipped him to the ground, pinning his hands to the ground in the same way he had with you. You felt a swift kick to the stomach before you could properly pin his legs down with your own‒ flying towards the wall with his knife still lodged in your hand. Yanking it out with a bloody tug, you resumed a low stance to charge him once more.

"You are insane." He says, disgust in his eyes.

You leaped at his throat again, while he dodged your tactical violence with a strained breath. Good, he was beginning to waver, you thought. But just as that thought passed, you felt him snake around your form, behind your neck with a prepared fist. Feeling it prickle the hair on your neck, you jumped back, at the ledge of the window to regain your composure. But before you could even grip the handle of your knife properly, you felt your body tipping backwards towards the sky‒ a gust of wind pulling at your spine.

As you fell, you tried to think of something, anything, you could measure your life with. But there was nothing, only threadbare blankets of meaning and will. You’ve heard the sputtering nonsense of men you had failed to kill swiftly, recounting their husbands, their wives, their mistresses, their friends, and their children as they choked out their last breath‒ but nothing of that sort came to your mind, just the disappointment adorning your master’s face‒ and ‒ the unyielding excellence of the night sky. You'd never have to face that fury anymore if you succumbed to it‒ so you let your head dip into the dazzling starlight weaving their path like turbulent waves through the darkened sky, prickling in their evanescent virtuosity. You were glad at least to recognize such beauty by the end of your life, and see it at last beyond your cedar cage. Scorching those prickling lights into the flesh of your eyelids, you let the fall embrace your body, diving down.

But you soon realized the darkness you had laced into the eyes of many dead did not come. You looked up, the man grasping your hands, plump veins threading his strained arm. The knife in your hand was nimble, quick to stab through your own and into his, knowing the likelihood of his arm giving before he could pull you up. But he whacked the knife out his skin and from your hand, cupping it over yours to begin pulling you up and inside.

"You are fucking crazy. Do you want to die or something?"

You didn't want anything, but you especially didn't want to anger your master. And it would anger him very much if you left evidence, and especially if you failed this task and came back alive. But you suppose it wouldn’t make much of a difference if he ended your barren life.

You laid limp in his hands, until he dragged you over the ledge of the window, toppling your body onto the floor with a thud next to his. With no weapon, you could resort to your bare hands, so you prepared both of your bloodied limbs, cracking your fingers in the air as your knife sharp nails gleamed with red even in the cool blue of the moonlight.

However, you felt the man's feet sweep under yours, knocking you off your center and smashing your face into the ground. Quickly, you raised your stance, ignoring the blood that dribbled from your forehead and nose before returning the favor to his own feet, dragging your battered body towards the boy’s sleeping one. All you would need is a single hand‒ if your other limbs and face came as an expense, so be it. You felt a tug at your pants.

The man let out a groan. "Just. Stay. Down already!"

Your eyes slanted towards his body, as he began to rise off the floor, and away from the carpet. Something tugged inside you, but you let him, heaving your body towards the prince. But the fabric moved from under your feet, catching you in its constructing embrace. You looked down, finding your body completely restricted by a rough fabric that seemed to be wriggling against your rebellious arms.

The man tipped his head back in relief, slumping his shoulders down. "Thank the great sevens for this carpet. Kamil is so going to be hearing about this tomorrow morning. As for you…" You stared with a wicked violence in your eyes, daring him to lay a hand on you again, You’d tear out from this fabric and rip everything in your sight to shreds. "Ugh you have such unsettling eyes. It would be better if I just brought you to Crowley. I don't get paid enough for this." He retrieved his wand off the ground, waving it in front of your eyes. You barely fought the phasing darkness that eclipsed your vision, before you fell completely into it.

——————————————————

Shikigami don't sleep, so you don’t dream, usually. Today you won’t either.

But some nights in your cedar bared cell, you would press your ear to the earth, feel when it would rumble in its arcane voice that rippled like a heartbeat in the hard, earth-packed floor. You’d imagine the heart of the earth, writhing with molten rock, and the way it would hiss feverishly when it met the polluted air above ground‒ beating especially fast during the moments you’d feel it growl against your flattened cheek. The song, and blood of the earth, raw. The dried roots hanging from the ground would be traced by your fingers, as you’d imagine surpassing the curtain of flesh and bone to dive deeper into that beating earth‒ feeling that heart closer, trailing the way the movement would hammer throughout your body. Beyond all that tightness, the pain you would trickle from, back into the heart of the earth.

You’d never felt a beat closer than the one beyond your reach, deep under the ground. But when you felt like you needed to hear the sound of your own heartbeat you’ve never heard‒ you would imagine yourself feathering into the earth to feel it.

“Hey. Wake up.”

You wince slightly from the bright daylight entering what appeared to be an office room, blinking to adjust your vision unaccustomed to seeing the rays of the sun. The halls at your master’s abode had always been shrouded in darkness‒ either through the veil of night, or the washi paper dyed dark that showed itself only slightly against the solid shoji frames. Nonetheless, you do everything in your draining power to flatten your expression solid, chilled, against peering eyes. It seems that is all you can do against the three which stand before you, your body and hands bound tightly against the chair you were sat on.

“They don’t look threatening at all Jamil!”

The boy you had been sent out for is still alive, as carefree and sprightly as he was the weeks and months you had observed him. Your eyes swim throughout the room and to the three who stand before you, your mind racing to look for a weapon, a human error, a crack in their facade you could thrust into and to break their bodies‒ to at least finish the bare minimum of your master’s bidding.

A man in a mask stands between the two younger men with a file in his hands. “Hm. I’m looking through their files and they seem like they’ve been enrolled normally, a late enrollment, but nothing too suspicious in their file…”

“Still‒ this matter should be investigated properly. I will send a message to the Al-Asim family for any resources you need to do so.” The man you fought yesterday rubs his injured hand as he glances at the file, before he flickers his eyes to your form, stilling your wandering eyes in an instant.

“Don’t bother looking for an escape. Even you won’t be able to escape those bounds.”

You feel the knot of your hands, and you know it well‒ the one the guards use in your cell during nights they particularly felt they needed to release some pent up stress.

“Will you dispose of me?”

“We’re not gonna kill you if that’s what you're asking.” The ivory haired boy answers. His companion sighs a bit at his words.

“Kalim, ignore them.” His words fall sharply against your steely gaze. “Who sent you?”

You still yourself to silence, returning his question only with unblinking, vacant eyes. This was the best choice, you think, having never had to make this decision before‒ you’d be dead soon after if you had failed to protect your Master’s confidentiality. Perfection or failure‒ that thought had already fettered in your mind, tingling at the back of your neck as if to recall its previous sanctions. Though, you suppose the silence that slated your mouth shut at this moment would be able to prolong that inevitability of suffering. Jaws clamped, shoulders snared, eyes clenched so tightly you saw bursting stars. Those raging bodies could fashion something from that petrified tensity, purifying it to gild yourself in an impenetrable alloy. Still, a hammer is a hammer‒ it could still shape and scar the metal, however impervious.

You breathe, in, out‒ expelling some of the tightness in your aching back. It always came, always. Reliving those things in this moment would be carving this tomb of a body into more of a museum of yourself. It would soon come, but you’d be steely, cold, by then‒ you had plenty of time. It would come, but not now, you reminded yourself. There was time to strip yourself raw of any feeling.

The masked man sighs. “Clearly this isn’t going anywhere. So I’m going to put you in charge of this…” He looks you up and down. “…fellow. Until I get someone to investigate this matter more deeply.”

“Of course.”

——————————————————

Your master visits that night.

You've exhausted yourself thoroughly by the time the moon slits itself brightly against the night sky. You don't know whether your fatigue comes from your attempts in unbinding your limbs, or from your still racing mind‒ either way, your body had readied itself for all of your damnation tonight, slumped and sapped of sensation and feeling. But even between your phasing consciousness, you could feel the dreadful drag of his robes, the vivid power swelling with each step he takes towards you‒ a high tide of terror suspended over you before it all came crashing down with a grip to your scalp.

Your vision is burnished from a flame coiled around his hands‒ a herald for the burns to come. It eats away at your clothes, and then rages against your skin, splitting it open like seeds, sowing the ache of tomorrow. But right now, you focus on unfeeling all of that‒ jaws clamped, shoulders snared, eyes clenched so tightly you see bursting stars. Unfeel it. Unfeel. A prayer, if you knew the word.

“You have disappointed me one last time.”

Your master never taught you how to shape decadent words with your mouth. Your tongue was cut and hammered for concise, sparse‒ cold, metallic language‒ please, thank you, yes, forgive me, Master, my apologies.

Mercy.

That was not one you had learned from him, but had heard so countless times before you had taken the lives of many‒ the word embossed in your mind so deeply it had finally carved itself out to take shape on its own. You thought yourself ready for all of this, but something climbs from your throat. Mercy, mercy, master, mercy‒ the word ran forward on your tongue like an undammed flood, the sound of your voice so frail and winded having been gnawed every waking moment you stood hardened at your master’s feet. You barely recognize it against the thundering of your blood. When he reaches to your throat, palms adorned with the inferno of his abhorrence‒ you rip that word from your cords towards anything you may have the capacity to believe in ‒ a god, a martyr, some mythical beast‒ something that had never shown itself in your life that may present itself in this very moment.

Mercy is not of the servant words. He spits, "Failure". Your kind were to take punishment of the sacrilege that was your very existence with thanks, not some wailing perversion of humanity. Still, you break through to cry that word. For hope, or some dwindling attachment to life you do not know. You were reborn without will, no fire, no warmth, and you know the stars do not answer to those who have no heart. But still, you cry. You cry.

“Trespassers aren’t welcome here.”

The roaring scald at your skin stops for a moment, leaving only the aching blister hissing against the air. You cast a fading look to Jamil, who stands behind your master with a wand in hand.

“Look into my eyes.”

You call to mercy, and it comes in his words.

“The person reflected on your eyes is your master. Answer if you are asked, obey if you are ordered."

The magic takes its time to coil within your master, ever a stubborn mind. But when it does, you feel a lightness within you, and for a second you think it's the trick of the torrid ache that bleeds you dry of life, or the released pressure from your throat that is the cause. That is until you hear the words that follow.

"Free them. They are yours no longer."

No, that lightness was very real. It bleeds within your chest, for once, the weight in your lungs as you breathe in, out dwindles. You listen again to his words which echo in your mind, then you realize. He had released you from your master's contract.

You let the darkness welcome you as it always has, untethering all the stiffness that binds you. It slips between your cracks like smoke, and you feel as wild and boundless as the roaring starlights. You hold onto the feeling as tightly and as long as you can before it slips, and ciders, as all things do.

Shikigami are bound to their master for life, but you're a unique case, you've heard. It was through those cedar bars tipped to the night skies where you hear whispers and hushed words during night patrol‒ the gossip of the many hands and blades which were under your master's rule. Usually, they are about trivial human affairs‒ what to eat that night, who to bed, who to rage against. But you’ve heard, once.

That one is strange, once human. Once like us. Now…

You're instructed by your master to keep your head down, bowed to the gravel and tethered low to the earth. It is where you belong. He snarls, driving it further towards the filth. You know to do this for all who work in the great mansion‒ but there was once, when you were younger, a time you had flashed the vacancy of your eyes towards a general. You didn't think much of the tremble of his chest, the disgust twisted in his face and the weak sting of his hand when a fist knocked you to the wall. It’s just how it is.

You don't know, but you think your master has done worse. You had never measured the strength of fist against your flesh against each other‒ it was useless to dwell on it‒ much easier to swallow all of it the same way, deep into your dark belly. But when word soon found its way to him, you found this to be untrue. Humans are capable of so much more. There was pain beyond comparison.

That night turned out to be only the rehearsal for many more to come, a harbinger to the trick you embedded in every movement, every bow, every breath. A trick of petrification‒ knowing the taste of blood through teeth, tongue, and flesh, how to swallow it in silence. When the flaying began that night you’d learn how to snare every muscle in your body inwards, drive that agony deep within that fossilized density, shove your face deep in the corner‒ take the pain and hide the face of it. Soon, that face began to fade all together, you’d soon forget how to shape your features in a way that wasn’t thickset iron, that bent and molded against every crucible that scorched and tempered, remaining the same insipid gray no matter how many times it would be hammered and fluxed into any shape. If you’d concentrate enough, you may taste the fragrant blood from your body‒ but you’d swallow it as soon as it came before its flavor could meet your mind.

Once like us. Not any more.

Men slept so soundly at night once you had shown you'd drag yourself through the halls beating after beating like a rotten corpse‒ heaving behind thrashed skin and filthy blood even with it all nearly being drained from you.

Like us, but no longer.

They'd often take turns with their own fists, their own blades, chattering with laughter at your limp form, their inhuman brutality spilling endlessly out from them like buzzing plagues. The next day you'd smell the stink of their lily white faces in the morning incense they burn at their shrines wishing for good fortune, riches, for my wife, this; for my son, that. Though you had sipped the ambrosia of their boundless violence‒ you never thought your eyes divine during those ceaseless nights‒ it was just the way things are. Perhaps that knowledge morphed you into a caricature of the celestial bodies‒ after all, you’d once been made in their image. But the stars never answered your calls. It was all the same for shikigami, you were just a unique case‒ therefore, you must be punished for such heresy that was to defy human order.

You thought for sure your master would have concocted some acid to smear between the cracks of his skin, brewed death to his hands before he took your throat into it‒ ensuring your destruction. But that would be a kindness for empty spirits such as yourself, so he'd meant to do the same as all other men‒ to satiate their hunger, to ravage and tear apart such living things that could not raise a finger to their might. What better than something that looked like an image of the gods‒ a human? Like us, but no longer. He meant to enjoy every fleeting breath of your lungs, every drop of blood spilt with his permission. So, you supposed you shouldn't be too surprised that you've woken up in the same world again after you had felt the unraveling of your contract. You gnaw on yourself.

"Oh. You're awake."

No binds, no chair. Only having known the cold, earth-packed floors of your cell, even during your investigations at the school‒ the plush that surrounds you dips awkwardly against your wobbling body, trying to balance itself on the soft surface. You find your center, and you touch the softest, most whole fabric you’ve feat your fingers to. You rake your nails through it to test the delicacy.

"You shouldn't move so much, or that's what Jamil told me. Your scars will reopen, I think." It's the ivory haired boy again. You look for his companion either sweeping eyes, but find no one else in the room but him.

"It's okay. You're safe now‒ Jamil told me about your situation."

Your voice comes willowy, dry and crushed like the autumn floor. "Situation?"

He looks a bit in confusion. “Yeah, your Master. He treats you poorly, doesn’t he?”

“Poorly?”

“Yeah, poorly. Like he… abuses you?”

You think. You know blood, you know how it spills and beads off your flesh as it is feathered open like a festering, spewing fruit. But you’ve moved so straight-backed all these years, muscles calcified to contain all your writhing heart at once in the great brimming bowl of your hands. You didn’t think of the pain too often or soften your body enough to feel it‒ only of the next breath, the next twitch in your muscles that would spill a drop of that dark liquid, and become reason to prolong the flaying. Maybe that was pain too, the tightness. But such knowledge would be useless in your hands, you decide, so you say your words with conviction‒ flesh fossilized to gilded iron so vigorous it would brace any feeling under its pressurized solidity.

“Abuse is a strong word.”

Kalim blinks. “Still‒ a master’s duty is to protect their servants and right hand, not hurt them. So you can stay with us, here.” He smiles brightly, hands behind his head and tossed back.

Your head spun with questions‒ but so many of them falling from your lips began to feel foreign on the tongue. So you declare, “It's just how things are. And…” You look you the boy's hands. Would they reach to you in their cruelty like all others have? Groveling at your master's feet did work at times to feed his ego, his hunger, perhaps you should do the same for him. "Thank you, prince. For this you can use me however you wish." You bow your head, stretching thin your scars.

He’s silent, something you measure to be surprise or confusion‒ but before you can completely catch it, Jamil walks through the door, steaming plates in hand. “Kalim, don’t tip your chair like that.”

“You’re finally awake.” He hands you a plate of something hot. It’s nothing like you’ve ever smelled before‒ fragrant spices, the warmth of each bursting smell tingling your nostrils and to the back of your throat. Despite its rather plain brown color, the dish glistens and gleams with each slurred movement of the steaming stew, poured over the white heaps you had seen other servants carrying to your master’s quarters, every morning, lunch, dinner.

“Eat. It will help you heal.”

“Heal?”

Again, surprise, you gather, though expressions seem to be faint on Jamil. It stills to his usual expression soon after while he chooses his words carefully. “For your wounds. The…trauma you’ve sustained on your body.”

You echo the words you’re unfamiliar with, shaping your clumsy tongue to shape such indulgent words. “Trauma?”

“Your back, your body. It’s sustained prolonged exposure to…damage. It’s going to take a long time to heal. Even longer with you malnourished.” He answers quickly, a flicker of his eyes like the tongue of an apse to measure your expression without notice. But you know the movement, having carved it in peripheral gauges low to the ground. You don’t answer to it however, still caught by his foreign words. Even from the most brutal floggings, scars were healed quickly and with force‒ through acid salves and infused tinctures that bubbled away your body’s ailments. You were never given food after your beatings‒ that would be rewarding bad behavior after all‒ you weren’t familiar with this process.

“Oh.”

“Aren’t your parents worried?” Jamil shoots a look at Kalim when he asks it, but the ivory haired boy does not take notice with his undeviating gaze.

“I don’t think I have them.”

“You don’t think?” Jamil quirks a suspicious eyebrow.

Kalim leans forward, inspecting your face. “Are you even human? We can't find anything else on you besides your school records."

“I am human. Or…” You look at your reflection in the window, peering into your gaze to find the same life that was held in theirs, or even passing birds and young buds sprouting from the ground. Pain, humiliation, some sliver of the folly of men you'd witnessed. But nothing. Only a shaded hue which atrophied in all directions. “I was.”

Jamil gathers his eyebrows to the center of his forehead. "Explain. We're still investigating further into your matter, and we've virtually nothing on your file. We can’t help if we know nothing."

You slosh around the food with the spoon, eventually placing it on the table beside you, bringing that plush blanket to your hands. "I know as much as you do‒ I was once human, and now I'm a servant spirit. I don't know or remember anything beyond that."

"Does the name (Name) mean anything to you?"

"It was just something randomly picked by my master. Fake, I think."

"That's not possible. The dark mirror summons its students by their true name."

You sift through your memories, searching if there was never any recollection of anyone calling a name to you. It was always "you" and sharpened fingers‒ a passing phrase to rush against their lips, a nuisance to waste breath on when in turn, they could tug at your chains or pull you by the root of your hair. But never (Name). Your head scraped against itself with that sound, as if to kindle some memory that had been lost in the air.

"It…sounds familiar, maybe. Perhaps it was my old name. I do not remember anything of my past life, if any, truely."

Jamil hums. "Well, if you remember anything, report it to me so I can pass it on to the investigation."

"Certainly."

"Are you not going to eat that?" Kalim points to the still steaming plate of food on the bedside table.

"Spirits do not require food, prince."

He waves his hand, dismissing the title which falls naturally from your mouth. "Ah, no need for formalities, Kalim is okay. But you should try‒ Jamil's curry is the best!"

You weigh their expression as Kalim thrusts the plate into your hands again, taking in that inviting aroma once more. Scraping the foreign utensil against the ceramic, you shovel a heaping spoonful clumsily into your mouth. Spices, the heat, mouthwatering oils, and ‒ no doubt‒ a harvest rooted in the clouds of heaven and paradise.

You had felt the pyre at your master's hands, blistering and breaking your skin like rotting fruit, the earth baked raw with the sun against the soles of your feet. You'd felt snow that scalded you like fire upon your fingers, tonics and brews summoned by your master splitting your skin like wildfire eating away through cedar forests‒ fresh, still beating blood spilt on your face, your own and many others’. But it was not until that moment that you’d felt warmth.

When you brought those steaming white pearls to your lips, glazed with that fragrant sauce, you were flushed with that mildness‒ a heaving gravity that beat like a heart. Living‒ or whatever that could mean to you.

"Did you…" You dig through the plate with the metal, searching for a sprig of an herb, the trace remains of a tincture, magics and spells which could be hidden in ground willow bark and the sticky sap of flowers that could not be fully dissolved enough into the fat of the dish that would stray from your untrained eye. “…what did you do to this dish?”

“If you’re accusing me of poisoning you‒”

“You couldn’t have, I’m immune. But…” You feel a pressure at the back of your throat‒ perhaps that heart was fighting its way out of you, you think. In fact, all of your organs felt like they were being rushed to the edge of your flesh, to the skin meeting the air to make space for this writhing feeling inside, swelling, reaching its arms to the very core of your chest, unfurling its prickling fingers to your stomach. Yet, it felt inextricably tender, moth soft. “What is this called?”

Kalim answers. “Curry?”

The words come clumsy‒ you try to swallow that lump which disables you of clarity in your words with a gulp ‒ but that golden feeling comes back in waves, stuffing you of all of its thundering presence. “What about inside?” You scrape another bite into your mouth, it blooms with another burst of warmth inside your entire body. “This warmth. What is that ingredient called?”

The ivory haired boy shakes in laughter, taking an elbow to his companion' side. "I think they’re talking about love, Jamil. You made it with looooove~." He sings.

Love.

You’d heard that word sparingly in the twisted corners of your cell, sipping sparse droplets of it and swallowing the power infused in that word. You’d never know the true taste of that word, but whispers and pleas here and there: he loves me, she loves me not, I love, I love, I love. It was rarely a word that was used in its full capacity in the human tongue, or at least how you’ve seen it‒ instead, its unfurling force threaded into dying confessions and outstretched hands that was fleeting with the beat of life. I love you, I love you, I love you. Their final words to their wives, children‒ the likes. You had added it to the list of unknown words, but held a special place for all of its vigor it seemed to have upon human lips, a sacrosanct sound kept deep in their blood until it was bleeding from their bodies. You felt that robustness in you, living. You thought you did, anyway. You were still too straight backed‒ solid steel to feel the full shape of it.

Jamil rolls his eyes, averting his gaze. "You're just getting used to proper food. It's just curry over rice, nothing special." He digs back into the dish, scooping it into his mouth with a bored expression. But even with his lolled gaze, you feel his eyes on you‒ telegraphing.

Something is wrong with me. You think. It is of course a permanent thought in your mind, pressed upon you with the sharp disgust in others' eyes and depth of their hatred as they lash against you‒ but it wakes and rises on your flesh like a seal burned upon your skin, stinging and bitter against the air. You feel raw with it, for once, perhaps this was pain. What you remember of it at least.

Another, and another, and another spoonful into your mouth, teeth clacking against the metal in the speed of which you bring it to your lips. But that thing is alive as ever, taking its great wings to jostle the beat of your own heart inside you. You don't notice the last bite being shoveled into your mouth‒ but when you do, it grows cold, tasteless, sandy on your tongue. The absence of that warmth leaves you frigid as ever.

"Could I‒" You bite back at your heart slipping through your lips. Asking for anymore, just mere days after you had attempted to take the life of the boy standing in front of you would be met with lashing words, if you were to flatter yourself with some ability of self preservation and cleverness to escape a more realistic punishment worthy of your master's name. "Apologies‒ I spoke out of line. Let me clean your plates." You swallow the last bits of rice stuck between your gums, savoring each bursting pearl before it slides cold down your throat.

"It's fine. I'll go get more for you, do you want the same amount?" Jamil stops you from even rising from the bed, taking your plate in his hands.

Your palms feel empty without instruction, the consequences that come if you do not anticipate it. So you stumble over your words. "I…please. If that's okay, yes please. I’ll do anything."

"You don’t have to do anything, we have plenty. From now on, you can always ask for more."

From now on. You traced that word in your mind with a buzzing feeling inside you, imagine pressing against the ground to feel that heartbeat underground. You find its shape somewhere within you, you think. From now on. the feeling bubbles and erupts from your chest. From now on. You replace the beat of your blood with it, sounding each word as a pulsing force throughout your body.

All you can do is nod meekly, bringing the soft blankets back to your hands, feel your sharpness claw against it.

——————————————————

"So you’ve really never had food before?"

You look at the tiers of boxed lunch lain in front of you, taking hungry spoonfuls into your mouth with quick speed. Its inviting aroma and warmth narrowed your vision at once, focused on the vibrant sauces, heaps of rice steamed with fragrant herbs, grilled meats that would leave your mouth watering, grape leaves stuffed plump with grains. "What do I have to do to earn it?" You asked Jamil this morning, body still heavy with its sunken weight in the softness of your covers, linens, mattresses, pillows, is what he called them. "You don't have to earn food." His voice is flat, but there's still a softness to his eyes when he hands you the boxed lunch. It had been some weeks since he had started packing them for you, seeing that the cafeteria lunches weren’t enough for your stomach, nor for the healing of what he called, your trauma. All of what he made was sprawled out in front of you now‒ half of it’s heaping amount finished, much to the amazement of your classmates. They crowd around you‒ counting the empty containers, gawking at the speed in which you fed yourself.

“No, I haven’t. But I’ve bitten someone’s ear off before, does that count?”

The ginger who asked you the question smiles, but there is slight unease rolling through his expression, and he lowers the device he had in your face moments ago. “O-oh. Good one.”

You’re tempted to ask what is?- but the nerves wobbling through his eyes, and those around him, quickly turns to something distant‒ revolt, you think. It stifles your voice, and your hands. The area clears almost completely, leaving you only with Jamil and Kalim.

“What was good?” you ask.

Jamil gives you a look you’re not sure what to do with. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk so much about your old life. People get unnerved, even if it’s normal for you.”

“Oh. Okay.” You accept his words with ease, but the food you begin to scoop back into your mouth turns heavy and tasteless. It forces cold and damp through your throat, and you almost gag, prompting you to excuse yourself for the water fountain.

“Trey, you have to see the new kid.”

The red head, you think, raising your head above the fountain.

"They're a tad unnerving. However, we should prevent our first impressions from welcoming a new student."

"Yeah, yeah. But you know what they said when I asked them if they've ever had food before?"

You hear the other student sigh, then ask. "What?"

"They said 'no, but I've bitten off a ear before, does that count?' And their gaze gives me the creeps! Ugh‒ Trey this school just keeps on attracting more weirdos."

Their voice reaches closer, until you're standing face to face with them, you settle your eyes on them, take in their nausea as part of their own.

“O-Oh! You scared us, (Name).”

“Sorry.” You say, gaze cast to the floor.

It is where you belong.

If spirits existed, ghosts certainly could‒ with the solidity of your master’s voice ringing through your ears, you were almost certain you could feel his thin fingers threaded through your hair, pushing it down towards the earthly filth. Even with your downturned gaze, you know how to read the unease fluttering sharply within the cavity of their chest, the unyielding distance between you, and them. You gild yourself in that iron again, head down, back straight. It was a shape you knew how to forge yourself into, at least, rather than some crude caricature of humanity. It’s just how it is.

“You didn’t hear us did- oof.” The student next to him jabs him in the stomach.

“We’re sorry. We don’t mean any harm, we swear.”

You were already turning from their faces, measured breaths, jaw clamped, shoulders snared. Before this, you’d carefully temper your flesh and ask‒ was this the shape of a human‒ how they moved, how they felt, how they lived? But the softened iron of your palms had turned to something else, some smoothed, petrified alloy that could not be identified, found, or belong anywhere. All those years‒ hammered and fluxed by the crucible of human hands, and now suddenly that heat had died, and you would only be met with the frost of the water which treated you solid into an alien thing.

“It’s fine. Just how it is, don’t worry about it.”

You gnaw on yourself, swallow the blood but do not taste it.

——————————————————

You take your lunch outside the day after, but have no appetite to touch it. Since when have you had such a thing‒ an appetite? Spirits don't require food, you think. But there's a slight ache that rolls through your stomach, eating its way through the prickle of your skin.

"Kalim was looking for you."

You jump to your feet at that sudden voice‒ heart pounding, gripping the hand that reached towards you with unforgiving force. The soft spots, the places where blood would come fastest when it was cut‒ those shapes were found easily in your hands. But you let them go as soon as they came, noticing Jamil's pained expression. You snap your hand back.

Words rush to your mouth. "I'm sorry‒ I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to‒"

"It's fine. I shouldn't have done that. I startled you, I apologize." He shakes out his hand, and seats himself next to you. "Why are you sitting out here?"

You gather yourself, knees to your chest, words clotted to the air that suffocates you. "I unnerve people, like you said. It's better this way.” The isolation in your cells comes to mind. “I’m used to it.”

He begins to lay out some of the containers in front of the two of you, takes a bite from the steamed lamb rice. "You're still recovering. You shouldn't expect change so quickly. Besides, no one from this school is normal by any means, trust me." There's a smirk on his face when he says this, you see more of himself leaking through his facade. You feel yourself soften.

A moment of silence. You think.

"Can't you make me normal? With your magic?"

You fill the emptiness of your hands with his, face him with your shrewd, all-seeing gaze‒ measuring, telegraphing. "You can make me your machine‒ won't you?" You would have called him Master, then. But the fear set deep within his gaze silenced that sound from you.

His eyes widen, all of his contempt scrunched to the center of his face. It takes a lot for him to relax it, knowing you would take all of that blackness into you soundlessly without any reaction to the way it should burn and tear all the way down to your stomach where you held too much or those things. When he does, he feels it rolling to rage inside him, glad that he at least knew one of the faces which had made you this way to stir it in that disgust.

Still, that wasn't enough.

Jamil had never been one for justice, or righteousness‒ from the moment he opened his eyes, that notion would meet him at every turn‒ but, what tools that had shaped and twisted for this question from you, all the flecks of firelight that had been ripped from you when you were hammered into your current shape, for such a thing to fall from your mouth so normally. He often felt contempt for the world‒ if I had been born this way, if things were different, or if the world had worked in my favor instead of his‒ but rarely did that grow so sharply into what he was feeling now. For all the world’s violation, whatever divine plan that had planted every hand to shape you this way‒ he found himself coveting an ugliness, piercing like a blade through his chest when he met against it.

He was a servant too‒ he had also been stripped of his choices, his potential through his life. But it had never been unsheathed entirely from him. He'd spent all his life searching for the softness somewhere tucked in people's eyes, somewhere he could coil into to plant his own desires. But you stared back with all that emptiness‒ he wanted instead to take your hands, and tell you to fill them yourself.

He feels muddled, curdled in all that coalescence. He takes your hands.

"...I can't do that."

"Why? It would be better, for everyone else, wouldn't it?" You ask.

"You‒" He takes a deep breath in, lowers his voice. "...you shouldn't want that. To be controlled. It's not right."

"It's not?"

"No. It's not. Besides," he looks at his bandaged hand. You wince a bit. “It didn’t work last time.”

"Then…" The words cinder on your tongue. Then why? Why had I been taught so? If Jamil had the answers, you think he would have told you already. You spin it into something else. "Then what should I do?"

"That's not for me to decide. You should decide what you want to do, what you want to eat, what you want to like or dislike. Don't rush it‒ healing takes time."

Jamil's words chokes you with warmth, prickling against your fingers, flushed and florid of all that heat he seems to open you to. "What is there to do‒ to eat, to like, then? I've never…" You could never truly recall what it was like, coming into being. It was like being pulled from the darkness into another, like vague, passing shadows‒ there was little between those lapses of confined shade where you could trail any light back to its voice in the trilling birds, the rustle of cedar forests, the lush silvergrass.

In your cell, life had always trickled through your cage in distant whispers, morning songs, dying flora‒ and with humans it had always been the same. You'd feel the blood draining from their veins, but never that warmth inside of them‒ flesh to flesh, heart to heart. The food always tasted cold, and so did flesh when you touched upon it. It was just how it is, no like or dislike to it‒ just some cold, inscrutable stone pillar that stood at the eye of your life. "I've never had a will, before. I don't know if I can."

Jamil presses together his lips, hesitant of his next words. “When you called to me. That night. What was that, then?” Mercy. He had heard it, and answered to it with something of his own will.

You jumble through the thoughts in your mind. “I don’t know. Why did you save me?"

You hear the leaves and earth sing. But Jamil's heartbeat is still as loud as ever. He opens more of the containers in front of you.

"I don't know." He parrots back. There's a tick in his breath that catches your eye for a moment, but he continues.

"We can start with food, then. It'll get cold if you leave it in the container too long. Better to enjoy it warm."

He was right‒ the food had cooled while you had left it out. But the warmth when you put his handcraft into your mouth never chilled like those temporal things. He smiles warmly when you bring heaping spoonfuls to your mouth, and it fills you with that beat again. It rings louder this time, thundering in your ears vividly. Perhaps you were growing softer, learning to shape new curves and faces. You look to Jamil, memorizing the sculpt of his lips to know the composition of warmth.

——————————————————

"Why are you holding back?"

"Huh?" Jamil is wiping the sweat on his forehead with a towel then, water bottle in the other hand prepared to take a sip. But you trip him with your words, and he freezes on the spot, the perspiration that had felt so overwhelmingly warm and sticky seconds ago turning into icy streaks down his back. His silence urges you to continue.

"You were holding back. The beat of your footsteps, your reaction time, your breath. It's not the same as always." The words you say are sharp as ever, unsheathed from your tongue like a blade. "The position you were in when you passed the ball to Kalim‒ it was far better than where he was standing. The purpose of the game is to score points by getting the ball in the hoop, is it not?"

This part of your unexpected school career had been your best‒ moving your body with speed and purpose, surveying the field and each moving pawn, anticipating their motions through honed eyes and riding the rhythm of blood in other's bodies to intercept it. You had thought Jamil the same‒ but even with his refined gaze and nimble reception to it, his muscles stretched to pull back each movement, choking back all his vigor. You thought of your brimming bowl, the strangle of your body when you held it. The shapes you had known to forge yourself into were felt when you observed him closer. He had been a servant all his life too‒ but Kalim was always kind with him, and unlike you, he had warmth and fire within him. Desire, the word was.

"I guess. But Kalim wanted to make the shot."

He shoots a look over to Kalim, crowded by the rest of the class who nudge and jostle him around with their bright laugher. But you continue to look at Jamil, noticing his strained breath was still there.

“Didn’t you? I saw. The moment of hesitation before you passed the ball to Kalim.”

He stiffs under your piercing gaze. It’s unwinding, like a claw which catches a thread sticking by a single hair from its weave to unravel it, stitch by stitch. “I don’t want to stand out is all.”

"Why? You're amazing." You state flatly, as if you point out the blueness of the sky.

Jamil's heart bobs in his throat, it's weight silencing him.

"Did I…use that word incorrectly? I thought‒"

"No. It isn't that."

You thought you'd ask him what it was, then‒ but he had already joined back in the game, quieting his breath, measuring each step with the beat of those around him, slowing it. Your fray at the thought.

——————————————————

“Bad dog!” You flinched slightly from Crewel’s pointer whipping against the hardwood table, but you smoothed your expression as usual despite the growing frost mangling your lungs, your collapsing chest, your fingers. “Wrong measurements again! Read the directions before you even attempt to touch the materials this time.”

Nodding mutely, you still your eyes on the book again, staring at the foreign letters and scribbles printed on the page. This whole situation was beyond you‒ you never expected to have to actually participate in classes after you had succeeded in your job‒ such a life outside your cell would be witless to even imagine‒ yet here you were. Still, you continued to dart your eyes around the page, looking for answers to perfect this task at hand. It must be perfect, always. Perfection or nothing. Perfection of failure. And what follows failure was stretched thickly over your body, carved into your face as its first feature. You knew its gravity, held it in your body like it's very lifeblood.

Your vision began to shift far from where your eyes were looking‒ your body feeling but so unfeeling. That unfeeling had worked before so well to harden yourself, to be able to be beaten and hammered thick and thin against any anvil, to be purified over and over, cast into knotted molds. But this distance was sharpened and gnashing‒ a mouth and its slashing teeth that ate away at whatever was left of you.

Your racing thoughts were interrupted with a hand lightly grazing the hairs of your arm. It reminded you of the sharp frostiness of your master's grip, gray skin glinting like a knife, elongated nails digging into your arm as if to herald the hours of punishment that was to follow with a simple touch. You flinch away, and see your lab partner snap his hands back with defensive palms. But when he jerks his body in such a way, he tips the bubbling cauldron towards himself, the scorching liquid lurching towards his skin.

You don't remember putting down your book, or pushing the student off to the side. First, it melts the cotton of your blazer, through the thick fabric and instantly through your blouse. But that's all you feel, until you follow the gaze of your classmates to your hands, and you see the steam rising from the acid raging through your flesh, reducing it to its gorey sinew and muscles you'd seen so many times before.

You offer him your free hand to pick the student back up. But he backs away, his eyes wild with horror.

"Let go of that now! Don't you know what you've done?!" Crewel marches towards you, thick rubber gloves on his hand to yank the still hot pot from your hands.

"But I caught it. It's not broken. And everyone is okay."

"That's not‒ just." A pitch at the bridge of his nose. He waves his hand high in the air and you imagine for a moment that it cuts across your cheek. But you stifle that flinch, the rising fear in your body. "Just go to the infirmary."

You take his dismissal as a mercy, nod obediently. The rest of the students murmur, their gaze and conjurations in their minds prickling at your skin. It closes in, pressing hard on your veins like a grip on the neck‒ it's hard to breathe, hard to move, hard to feel and unfeel. Despite its enclosing suffocation, the permanent distance between whatever you were, and they were still stands unwavering and salient like a gilded column. You look to your hand, see the concoction eating a layer of your skin in angry red bubbles. But its sensation is little compared to the sharpness in which you feel yourself corroding, that alien metal rusting away at your insides like a gathering wildfire. The flesh, the sinew, the gore of your hands seem so distant, so unreal to you‒ so far from your body, and you do everything to raise a perversion of pain, of humanity. But nothing comes. Just that whetted withering inside.

The school nurse dresses the wound, some spells to take the pain away, despite the sharp smell of her unease when she notices you don't wince or shrill at it. She tells you to rest, recover. But you don't know what it means, so you sit soundlessly, eyes open on the cot.

"Hey."

You're so deep within the blur of your gaze that you don't see Jamil enter. But you hear the rhythm of his footsteps, his breath, his heartbeat.

"I heard something happened in alchemy." He sits himself in the chair beside you. "You alright?"

You hum dully in response.

He chews on the inside of his cheek, it's a bad habit of his that he thinks no one notices. But you do.

"The investigation." He starts. "They found something." The hesitance in each of his words, the heaviness of his breath. Something wrong, again, you think.

He retrieves a sliver of paper from the file in his hands, setting it on your lap. The edges of the thin newsprint paper are browned, rolled in their age, the words of the flaky paper sparse and rubbed off. You can barely make out a grainy picture of a barrel, tipped over from the bushes and vines it is thrown into. "I can't read." You simply state.

Jamil takes it back from your hands, swallowing a breath to sound the words slowly, in measured care. You read the words from his expression. 'Body of child found stuffed in a cask, suspected (Name) Tarutani, child of sakagura owner. Father imprisoned, life sentence.' Grief.

"Oh." That sound comes echoed in your throat, hollowed out of any feeling.

What were you supposed to do with that?

You'd grieve if you could, run up and down the hills and cry out to the stars. But you already knew of their blinding silence, their unwavering trek through the skies. There were glimpses, now that you thought about it. The smell of alcohol wafting in the stink of the guards' breaths that made you wince, closed spaces that would quicken your breath. But you held those things in that brimming bowl, not knowing what to do with them‒ should you bleed it dry, cradle them like some clandestine shrine, singe it to smoke? Either way, you'd keep it from surging‒ back straight, head down, muscles choked. "I didn't know."

"I'm..." Jamil hesitates to give you his reassurance. “…sorry that happened to you.”

But you don't know what to do with his words, his kindness, his comfort‒ you didn't even know if he was talking to the person in front of him, or some ghost that had been lost to the air. You look at the print, see if you could see any glimpse of what came before‒ any scrap of fabric, wind tossed hair, green youth‒ anything distinctly human. Were you a happy child‒ if one at all?

The stars don’t answer to you.

You measure the distance between the tragedies of your life. There is none.

Just one unfinished memorial of your pain, built flimsy atop another. The way extravagant palaces were burned to the ground, before a new one sprouted, already neck deep in its corrupt blood. You wish you would visit the monuments of your mind like those fracturing buildings, stalking through its outstretched limbs before you'd find a crack and crumble you could slip your hand through to set ablaze its heart‒ bleeding it's inhabitants over and over again like pulling brambles from the red earth. But commanding all of that destruction inside you‒ you'd be every break and burn of it all‒ the blazing memorial, the fire, the witness, the ash. Then the stars would cut through your flesh‒ wounds for the sun that burns through the morning mist, unfolding into another immature skeleton, for another memorial, another house, another place where shaded blood moves.

Perhaps it was better if you just watched, now, the construction of your blight. But your hands itched, forged and brazed for slaughter.

You gnaw on yourself.

“You alright?” Jamil tests the far off expression sculpted into your downwards face.

"Fine." You answer, taut, measuring with his expression an appropriate response, instead of some desolate look.

"Just…processing. I remember, now." You didn't, merely slivers of darkness, damp and choking, before you were pulled from it to your master's feet as a ceremonial spirit. But it seemed good as a lie as any, what good would a tragedy be without the curse of remembrance? But perhaps the fog and distance of it all was its own pain, own memorial, own blood, spilt. You didn't know.

You weren't sure how to mold yourself in a way that could meet it, know its shape to cast its features onto yourself to know that pain inside and out. Your face‒ what did it look like again? The fingers you bring up to it are as foreign and cold as a stranger's. That face, that body, that world‒ you could never belong to it, but only, be. The fire, the witness, the memorial pyre, the ash‒ you'd be all of that fracturing degeneration, but it could never belong to you.

And what was that even‒ being? You had never been allowed that either.

Jamil keeps on drinking in your expression like flooding water‒ catching the light in a thousand ways, changing direction into itself with every pebble lain, every breath of wind cast. It seems he has learned the trick of your stillness, the gilded iron of your face when he says, "...let me show you something.", and takes your hand.

He brings you to his room, it's just like yours, but filled. You're slightly embarrassed at the thought, feeling bare all of a sudden. As Jamil sits you down on the floor, you don't let him see your expression.

The glass vial he slips into his hands is tipped to his palm, and he rubs the oils which is poured from it into his hands. An ugly thought passes, then another. Poison, some sort of sleeping potion, another weapon, another blade?

But he turns to you, you see his face. And it puts you at ease.

"Is it alright if you touch your hair?"

You nod.

He takes the tangle of your hair, dips his fingers through it and massages your scalp. The fragrance of the oil is soothing, calming both the skin on your head and your senses. It smells a little like him, you imagine some honey-sapped crimson flower and the aroma of spices he surrounds himself in when he works in the kitchen.

"My mother used to oil my hair for me back home. Especially when I was upset over something."

"Is there something wrong with my hair?"

"No‒ although it is a little bit damaged. But it's just to relax, to feel more grounded."

You think to the way you would listen to the earth’s song and blood. There’s a similar pulse moving softly within Jamil’s fingers that work through your scalp. You lean into it.

"I like it."

"That's good. I'm not too used to this. I've only done it to my sister a couple of times."

"Sister?"

"Yeah. She's younger than me, a brat. But, she's family."

Family. You tried to imagine that word as faces, but nothing came to mind.

"What is it like having a sister?"

Jamil laughs through his nose. "Mine is very demanding, gets on my nerves at times. But she's smart, clever, quick on her feet. She scolds me a lot for my attitude, but I think a lot of times she takes after me in some ways."

"And mothers?"

"They're all different, you know that right?"

"Sure, but I don't know any."

"Well. My mother is beautiful, and hardworking. I've learned all my cooking from her‒ but she still makes all the best tasting food. Curry, dolma, knafeh‒ the flakiest, most mouth watering pastries you could ever imagine."

"It’s even better than yours?"

"By at least a hundred times, at least."

You curve your lips into what you think is a smile‒ its rounded movement novel, finding shapes it never forged itself in. Servitude required sharpness, taught, straight lines and jagged sounds. This softness was new. Had you been a happy child before all of this, to feel the stinging crackle of your lips when they moved so little from their straightness? You shake off that feeling, eclipse it with that buzz inside your chest‒ bright as a forge’s heart. From now on, you could take that silvery radiance bursting forth from that furnace nestled inside you, and shape that curve, that softness against the beat in Jamil’s hands.

You find Jamil doing the same.

“I..” A moment with the smile, before it fades. "I was lying before. When I said I remembered." You admit. "I don't remember anything about my human life. My mother, my father, siblings if I had any." Come to think of it‒ did you even remember your Master's face? All you could recall is his hands, the grind of his teeth. "I don't have anyone, or anything. And I guess I never have."

Jamil continues to massage the oil into your scalp. "That's not true. You have us now, you have…" Me. The two of us. We'll be... He bites his tongue, swallows the blood with ease. You hear a deep breath sipped between his lips, as if the words would continue to tumble out. He lets it go. "You have the people here at NRC. You'll make friends in no time."

"But I already have you." You loll your head upwards, look at him with weary eyes. "And Kalim. Isn't that enough?"

His heart at his throat, again. That unforgiving weight. Fast learner, his mother always praised. He's learned now to speak through the gulping waves, but he still can't look at you. So he moves your neck back, continues to work his hands through your hair. "You'll learn how to make connections with more people. You can start a new life. You're safe now."

"I know I'm safe." You lean into his touch, he's here. "I know."

"Then you'll be making friends in no time."

——————————————————

You didn't think you'd find yourself in a situation like this again, but you know human cruelty could cross all borders, all worlds.

"You're such a fucking creep, you know that?"

There’s no movement from you as they grab you from behind, binding you with their arms.

“Hey, say something, freak.”

You swallow their gaze with your own‒ a step back, fear in their eyes. “What would you like me to say?”

A scoff. Two steps forward. “Is that all you do? Do as you’re told? Are you even human, or just some fucked up emotionless puppet?”

“I was.”

There’s a sensation in your gut, you find his knee embedded in the skin against your ribs. A breath out, you don’t let out a sound.

"You're no fun."

“I bet you don’t even bleed the same color as us.” The knife glints behind his back.

People always did that‒ they seldom took you head on with their blades and tools‒ their flesh. They always binded you, knocked you cold on the ground before they revealed their gnashing teeth between their crumbling facade. “Show us then, here.” He signals to the other two to let go of your arms. You land on your hands and knees, center to the knife he tosses to the ground.

“Go ahead, show us.” Ah, there it is. That smile that is cut and carved in that estrangement.

Like us, but no longer.

They're right. You're not.

You've always had to move head on with your weapons, your flesh. Contact had always been a way to reap people of their life so you’d never been afforded such delicacies as lily white hands and hidden blades. All the pain in your life had been faced as a straight swinging hammer. And you were already priming yourself for this one, sanding down sensation and feeling that had heightened with every day you spent here. With him.

The flesh is as cold as the blade. You hug the silver against the vein emerging violet against your skin. Would it be red, like the stain of your hands? Or some darkened thing, sunken of all its color and rotten from your vice? Truth is, you were curious too.

You draw.

"You…!" One of them gasps between the teeth that spread wide on the red of his cheeks. "This freak really did it!"

It's too dark to see the color of the smooth liquid, but you bring it up to the light to inspect it. The three who stand illuminated against it back away gasping in disgust.

It's red, after all.

"Let's get the hell out of here before anyone finds us with that thing." They snicker, shove each other and scramble away.

You lay awake, dying.

You're used to seeing the weight of blood draining out of bodies, but to feel it pouring from your own makes you feel more alive and crimson than ever. This soaring must be the reason to the confessions of love, you think. But for you it's always been an immutable distance between other flesh‒ like us, but no longer. And you were no longer, if you had ever belonged. There is no one you could weave those sentiments into if you wanted to. No matter how flushed you felt with that writhing red substance, you knew your face had never been softened with it enough to reach towards others‒ to say, here I am too. Always, it had been straight backed, stone faced strokes you faced life's hearth with, and now it was all twisted into ash now, too.

You dragged yourself upwards, feel the blood rushing down your body to the earth. There’s barely anyone in the halls‒ you think of that night where you fought Jamil, where he had saved you once before you had even asked for it.

You want to see the stars.

The door creaks open as you stumble into it. There’s very little in your room‒ the things they had provided you with‒ covers, linens, mattresses, pillows, all that softness had been enough. You think yourself greedy‒ hungry as you look to the metal lunch boxes that sit clean on your bedside table. It was a ritual every morning to bring it to Jamil and help him prepare everything‒ let him slowly work the old habits from you as he told you everytime, “do you want more?” And of course you’d accept every time‒ how could you not? Everything tasted amazing and warm, you’d be a fool not to run straight towards all of that when you could, all of that “from now on”. But, it’s all over now. It was all the world’s delight when it lasted. There’s still an ache, in your chest, and all over like keyholes pricking through your body to see something you could not.

You see the stars.

The window you press your cheek against is cold as you devour the scene outside the window. The breath that comes dried from your throat is choppy, thickset with iron, but you’re used to the taste‒ savor it even, as your tongue had longed for such a taste of your own, thrashing life.

Tomorrow, you’d be a cold, fallen thing that will be burned of all of your hardened flesh to your brittle bones‒ and those who witness the pyre will claim to have not seen a heart within it that had moved you in any meaningful way.

But tonight‒ tonight is a perfect night. You hear your own heartbeat, and the warm breeze that combs through that sound carries the sand lapping against the starlight, brushing them into the skies as their own dazzling things‒‒ and the stars‒ oh the stars. It’s as beautiful as you remember when you had nearly plummeted into them the night you had met Jamil‒ and all the blissful moments with him you had to gaze upon it, drinking in each constellation, each speck of starlight with a hunger you had never had before him. You feel alive, tonight, and hungrier than usual. But there are twice as many stars out tonight, so you ravage all that splendor.

You’re tired, you want to close your eyes, but you tell yourself‒ one more second. Another. Another.

The thought rolls in your mind at least a thousand, thousand times before there’s a knock at the door.

"It's open."

“I figured you couldn’t sleep either.” He carries two cups, hands you one. You take it with a smile with your clean hand. “It’s tamarind juice from my home. I think you’ll like it.”

You take a sip, delight in how the sweet sour taste rubs raw on your tongue. “I do. Thanks. Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Just…” he looks down at his hands. “...thinking. About some things. Someone.”

You hum. “Yeah. Me too. The stars are beautiful tonight, don’t you think Jamil?”

His breath catches in his throat when shape his name with your voice. “They are. What’s this all of a sudden? Feeling wistful?” The amusement in his voice climbs to his cheeks.

You let out a breathy laugh, before it fades to something heavy in your throat. “I’m really going to miss you, Jamil.” Your eyes begin to weigh down, you slump your head against the wall, and do everything in your draining power to tilt it towards him.

He laughs for a second. “What are you…?” The deep inhale he takes comes out as a sharp shudder when he sees the red staining the entirety of your forearm. “Are you…!” He rushes to clutch your forearm, putting pressure above the cut. But it still spurts forth‒ you knew it would. You counted the seconds it would take before it would be too late. “You’re bleeding! What happened? We have to‒”

You smile, and when you put your hand over his you feel his pulse hammering against his skin. The flood of his words cease to a dried breath.

"It's funny, Jamil. I think I’ve said goodbye to so many things, you’d think I’d know what to say now. But I still don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

The reflection of the stars in his eyes are far more alluring than any of the lights traveling hundreds and hundreds of years to reach this sky. It softens you.

You feel your body lifting‒ from the pull of death, or Jamil you don’t know. But you lean into it, reaching.

I am here.

You feel it answer, but you find yourself dismembering, fraying to nothing.

——————————————————

I should have said thank you. You think. Or‒ at least‒ I'm sorry a dozen more times.

Thank you Jamil.

You think it’s a fading thought, but the light bleeds red through your eyes, and you find yourself waking again. This time, there is a face which awaits you, and a warmth which meets your hand, your touch.

“(Name)!” Jamil stands from his chair, pulled immediately to your side.

“Jamil.” You rise to your elbows, you want to see him better. “Where am I?”

“The infirmary. You‒ ” He casts his gaze down, holding his breath deep in his lungs as he squeezes your hand. You’re here. You let his fist hit your shoulder lightly. “You asshole. You scared me. You idiot.”

"I'm sorry." You let him hit against you again, squeeze back. I’m here.

"You're going to learn how to live‒ weren't you? Why then‒" He takes a gulp of air. "Why?"

"I'm sorry."

He lifts his head. "That wasn't an answer to my question."

"I…" You hesitate to let the words unravel from you in the air. "I would say I was just doing as I was told. But I think I wanted to see for myself too."

“Who‒” The center of his face creases further. "See what?"

"If I was really human. If I would bleed red like everyone else. If I had a heart that pumped blood instead of an empty tomb of a body." The blood flushes against your skin as you press your hand deeper into his.

You continue. "But I think. I think this is proof enough." He’s silent when you lift your hand, already intertwined with his, heartbeats singing. "I can feel the warmth in my hand when I touch yours. That's human‒ right?" You feel the pulse breathing under his palm, and the twitch of his fingers laced through your own that closes it ever so slight around your knuckles.

I am here.

There's a slight tremble. He's scared‒ you're terrified. You’d thought you knew hunger, after realizing those years of ignorant starvation. Desire is such an ugly thing. To witness. To want. To be unbearably bare‒ nerves flayed and butterflied while you hold your hands in his, that bowl now flooding crimson into your hands.

But you feel his heartbeat, the song memorized and echoed with the second one growing in your stomach. Flesh to flesh, heart to heart.��

There's surprise in his eyes, delight blooming on his cheeks. It pleased you to see him like this, cracking his stillness as he had your own.

"Jamil‒ I think‒" You breathe his scent in. "I don't know what I want, yet. But I want to move forward. And live."

You hold tighter. I'm here, I'm here. He answers back, closer to his beat.

"And, I think‒" You collapse the nerves festering in your mind. "- I know I want to do that with you. If you'll have me."

You feel yourself kindling under his touch, you take that fire in like hot coals, smoldering slowly‒ higher‒ higher, you rise.

"Will you?"

There’s panic that rolls through him, one which nearly chokes his entire body. But you press further and further into him‒ find his shapes in the air. But for once, he doesn’t let himself stifling his ardor, instead, he lets it feather throughout his body, melting that sweetness into his blood and bones. He’d always been a fast learner, but this one he would have to swallow piece by piece.The moments he spent under your unyielding gaze come to him at once, that straight shooting thing like a resplendent comet comes to mind. It is etched into his memories‒ your face which swallows and shows him his own pains, his own desires pressed into him in your hand. Perhaps you were that‒ desire, will. That very thing itself. You’d be with him, help consume every piece of him hand in hand, heart to heart.

In that moment, the two of you stand closer than the constellations in the sky‒ such godly things that have been thrust into the cosmos in all of their dazzling, eternal radiance which tethers and claws at the ether. And it feels like forever, with the two of you. A soft thing like the thousand thousand stars reaching their crumbling hands towards each other.

You’d never thought of himself a martyr for anything soft. Something of flesh and blood. But that reaching hand was more than enough. A dead thing like the stars you were, but whatever light Jamil had pulled from you was whirling towards him‒ a straight shooting comet.

“Of course."

You curve his desire onto your lips. He does too.

You shake. But the two of you grasp your hands tightly to quell it, hand in hand, heart to heart. I am here. What a merciful thing.

Together, you take the brimming bowl in your hands, soften your body‒ and drink.

——————————————————

Notes:

Washi is one of the many papers shoji doors can be made out of. There's tesuki kouzo (handmade, made of kouzo/mulberry, usually very expensive and laborious), and more modern materials like rayon or plastic. Washi is a bit of a rarer material, but adds the benefit that it can be dyed, and produced cheaper than kouzo (in most instances), I imagine the mansion as dark‒ black lacquer, darkly dyed washi, embellished with spots of decadent gold.

Sakagura is where sake is brewed and stored, similar to shuzou, a place where sake is made and sometimes also brewed.

Tarutani is a surname that means "cask valley" (cask being the barrels used for alcohol storage)- surnames were often used to indicate status, occupation, even location during older times, much like how family crests (kamon) did

Rice was actually a delicacy up until really the Nobunaga era where agricultural advancements happened, even then until the Taisho era, Rice was not readily available to lower class since the Tokugawa Shogunate (feudal military government) had very strict rules about class mobility and what certain classes could eat, do, speak of, and even wear. I wanted to base the house that MC was serving on Daimyo (feudal lords under Shogun) because they're very grimy and scheming, especially as the military class and samurai began to grow stronger with the Shogunate's influence against the more "democratic" Imperial family‒ and they grew in their corruption before the fall of the Tokugawa Shogunate and instead replaced with a more democratic government with the Imperial family as head during the Meiji restoration ("knock knock, it's America" and Perry's boat lol). Their slimy nature would also kind of fit with MC's master and his motive to take down the Al-Asim family down as assassinations were very frequent during the Sengoku era where Daimyo were killing each other left and right because of their paranoia and greed lmao.

Hair oiling is practiced in a lot of different cultures‒ predominantly in Indian, Egyptian, and Black African cultures. However, in the modern day, it has spread to many different cultures as both a health and therapeutic measure, so I think it would make sense that Jamil would know about it, what with his long luscious locks and all lmao. According to my research Ghergir leaves and oil, as well as Blackseed are commonly used in Arab cultures? Please correct me if I’m wrong lol it’s kind of hard to find historical records and research on this because academia likes to center on the western world and treat non-western cultures as a monolith unfortunately

Tried to incorporate mostly Arabic cuisine but I am not an expert by any means I just know that entire region does magical things with spices the food tastes so good

Weirdly enough a lot of blacksmithing research for this. Idk why I kept reaching for that metaphor but it kinda slays

Tamarind juice or Tamar Hindi is a type of drink meant to be consumed during Ramadan to quench thirst and hunger, something something metaphor

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shiemori-writes · 1 year

Text

【The servant, at the suns mercy】

Where beauty lies, their adorning gaze, the sun had loved them endlessly, and the servant adored them just as much."

notes: wanted to be more poetic with this one hehe back in my jamil era!!! ♡︎

"He was completely at their mercy."

You were like the sun, he thought.

comforting and warm. He had been used to admiring you from a distance, hesitant of getting any closer, afraid he would burn at your mercy.

But no longer did you both dance in fear,

for your love knew no bounds, and eventually, fate brought you two closer over time.

Paralyzed by your blazing gaze, you had stepped closer, and closer to the servant, taking his hand in theirs. It was warm,

—All too warm. It was suffocating.

"The servant was completely at their mercy. Yours."

Caressing his hand, the sun had carefully admired, he trembled, like fragile glass.

His hands were warm, all the scars tracing his palm, the nips and scrapes,

they found them all beautiful. They whispered, like a forbidden spell that's yet to be casted.

His calloused hand, he quipped back.

rough and unpleasant, he thought.

You deserve better, he cried.

But throughout his doubt, his insicurities, you continued to treat him well. Reassured him, and held them close. You took pride in being their partner, which he would be eternally grateful for.

You had carved a permanent place in his life, and continued to be the sun, brightening his darkest days and guiding him through any losses,

and for that, he shall eternally be yours.

He was yours,

And you were his.

Sincerely, Jamil Viper.

end notes: just wanted to write something quick for jamil heehee, back at my jamil brainrot era <3 might write more later!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #twisted wonderland jamil viper #disney twisted wonderland jamil viper #✰—quinn writes! 💌

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